In Sue's Clothing
by Much Ado About Nonny
Summary: Serious Sue-fic. When Sues take over Redwall, Snowflower & her friends must go to Salamandastron to save their home. But does Salamandastron hold the answer or does Redwall's salvation lie in the paws of a strange mouse who is more than he appears to be?
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

Morganna the vixen sat slumped by the campfire, glaring at her master, Orglan Creg, chieftain of the Juskacreg. The swarthy weasel, nondescript save for the crimson slash across his muzzle designating the tribe to which he belonged, sneered spitefully back at her, and spat contemptuously into the flames.

"Ain't much t'look at, is she?"

A pile of rags near Creg's footpaws stirred, revealing the head of a hideous old vixen with crossed eyes, most of whose teeth were missing. She, too, leered at the younger vixen, before turning her attention to her chief.

"M'niece aint' pretty, Creg, but that ain't needed t'be a seer. Look'a me!"

Creg grinned mirthlessly, and discharged another load of saliva. "That ain't saying much, Narsha. 'Ow do I know if she's good?"

Narsha grinned again, laughing stupidly. "Trus' me, it's family. She's good."

Creg surveyed Morganna again, smirking at the hateful look she was throwing his way. "Huh, ugly li'l brat," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. "If she'd 'a been mine, I'da drowned 'er. But foxes is...different...folk. Mahap she 'as summat to offer."

Morganna quivered with rage. Yes, she was starting to look vaguely like her aunt, and yes, she had never been all that pretty in the first place, but that gave Creg no reason to treat her this way. But he did, and so did everybody else...even Narsha, who shared her niece's unfortunate appearance. And Morganna could do nothing about it.

A slow smile spread on the young vixen's face. No, she could do nothing...yet!

That night, while all the camp was sleeping, Morganna slipped out into the night. Using all the power a young vixen possessed to conceal herself, she snuck past the night sentries, and headed into the snow-bound Mossflower Wood. Five minutes and a few scratches and bruises later, she came upon a clearing...where _he_ was.

_He_ was Airen, the love of her young life. He smiled as she drew near him, his shiny blue-black-grayish fur glinting in the moonlight. Sparkling violet orbs smiled gently at her, and powerful arms opened to embrace her.

Morganna sighed contently as she slipped into the circumference of those arms. She had known Airen for only a week, but she already knew their love would last forever. Airen was the only beast who had ever seen past her infirmities, had loved her for her beautiful spirit...and now, he was the only beast who could set her free.

"Oh, Airen, my darling, I get so sick of this cruel world at times."

"Yes, dear heart, I know," sighed Airen, tears flowing manfully down his well-formed face. "For those with such sad and tragic lives as ours, living hardly seems worth the trouble."

Morganna snuggled him, and looked back up into his eyes. "If only there were a way to make the world more beautiful," she said, "and stop the cruelty I have always endured." She had thrown in a strong hint there...world he take it?

He would. "Oh, shining-light-of-my-sorely-wounded-heart," Airen said, smiling, "I thought you'd never ask."

He placed his strong paws on her shoulders and closed his magnificent eyes in concentration. Morganna closed her eyes as well, waiting hungrily for her transformation.

A half hour later, two radiant foxes stood outside the Juskacreg camp, smiling gleamingly. Airen looked at his promised wife, marveling at the shining physical form that his beloved's beautiful soul had taken on.

"Well, my love, shall we make the world more beautiful?"

Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful smiled gently, her perfect white teeth now startlingly visible in the pitch black fur that gleamed in the dazzling moonlight.

"Yes, my darling," she said, her eyes, the same purple as her beloved's eyes, twinkling with excitement. "We will start by helping my poor Juska brethren out of the darkness."

The two foxes joined paws, and skipped merrily into the Juska camp, singing brightly at the top of their clear, beautiful voices.

And so, yet another Mary-Sue entered the world of Redwall.


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: I just knew I couldn't keep my readers in suspense for too long with only a prologue, so here's the first chapter. Read and review please; I need to know if I'm doing well.**

**Note: my main character, Snowflower, will not appear until the next chapter.**

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

For eight long weeks of snow, storms, and lengthened nights, winter had kept a strong hold over Redwall. The cold season showed no sigh of letting up, either; even now, a bitter chill filled the Abbey, causing everybeast to curl up tightly in several warm blankets, and avoid any movement, even to receive meals, until absolutely necessary.

Even so, Matthew the Recorder awoke early to care for his house, as had been his habit for his entire life. Stirring gently, so as not to disturb his wife, the mouse quickly put on his heaviest habit to fend off the morning chill. He stepped out of the small, first-floor bedroom he shared with his beloved Primrose, and scurried down the hallway toward the main room of the gatehouse.

Matthrew was very proud of his fine home. After he assumed the mantle of Redwall Recorder upon the retirement of Brother Grigory, he and Primrose had moved into the gatehouse, the traditional home for the Recorder since ancient times. The old place was rich in history, which Matthew loved; his two sons, who also slept downstairs, loved to hear of how their shared room once belonged to Mattimeo, son of Matthias the Warrior. The gatehouse also suited his family's needs, for it had grown, over the years, from a simple structure that mostly served as an entryway to the the Abbey and a storage place for the archives, to a large, two-story dwelling with several bedrooms and space for the Abbey library to boot. There were few windows, it was true, and the Recorder's family spent a great deal of time outdoors to get the dust out of their lungs; but, in the dead of winter, a lack of windows brought an unexpected coziness to the place.

The main room was the grandest room in the gatehouse; it was a full two stories high, and had small, elegant tapestries hung about it to conserve heat. It was, first and foremost, the threshold of the Abbey, the sturdy oak doors its chief feature and decoration. However, the room was also graced with several chairs, an oak table, and a small stove, perfect for warming up hot drinks for weary travelers and doing the odd bit of cooking between the official Abbey mealtimes. Matthew's first duty every winter morning was to get a good fire started in the stove, so that the heat could diffuse throughout the household. This morning, he was surprised to see the fire already started, and a large, heavily bundled figure huddled before it, stretching numb paws toward the fire's glowing heat.

"Mavren! You're up early!"

This earned a distant chuckle from the bundled figure. "Good morning to you too, neighbor," he said quietly, as if too preoccupied to really devote himself to good, friendly sarcasm.

Matthew, noting the distracted tone in his friend's voice, pulled a chair near the little stove. Sitting down, he folded his arms and examined the bundled figure, trying to learn the source of the trouble

Mavren was a large, muscular hedgehog in his prime, with a handsome face and honest brown eyes. In his younger days, he had assisted Redwall in a crisis, involving the usual horde of vermin bound and determined to see the redstone Abbey as their fort. In return for his bravery, he had become the first of his species to bear the sword of Martin as Abbey Warrior, and had earned the deep love of a charming young Redwall hogmaid.

All of that had been two seasons ago. Little had threated Redwall in that short space of time, and Mavren's life had mostly centered around establishing his home with his wife. Matthew let the happy couple move into the north wing of the gatehouse, saying that the Warrior and the Recorder both had a traditional claim to the building since the union of Mattimeo the Warrior and Tess, the duaghter of John Churchmouse the Recorder. The north wing was separated from Matthew's cottage in the south wing by the main room of the gatehouse, and there was plenty of room and privacy for two young creatures just starting their life together. Sweet-natured Lily transformed her portion of the gatehouse into a well-kept little home, and now, with his first child on the way and nothing to menace the Abbey, Mavren had a few seasons of blissful peace to look forward to.

At least, Matthew had thought so, until he saw the stern frown that now overtook Mavren's usually happy, laid-back expression. Naturally, he was concerned for the young Warrior, whom he'd come to regard as an adopted son.

"What's wrong, Mavren? It's not the baby, is it?"

"No," the hedgehog murmured. "Lily's asleep; everything's fine." He pursed his lips, and ceased talking, his eyes never rising from their meditative contemplation of the stove fire.

"It doesn't look that way. What's on your mind?" The hedghoog still did not answer. "Come on, you can tell me. We're neighbors, aren't we?"

Mavren sighed, and settled back in his chair, his eyes still fixed in front of him. "It's nothing, really, just a dream I had last night. I never put much trust in dreams, and this one probably meant nothing, like all the rest, but it still troubled me."

Matthew's frown of concern deepened slightly, and he turned completely toward his friend. "It troubled you?" Mavren nodded, his eyes still stationary. "Tell me about it then. You're right, it might be nothing, but it's good to get it out in the open, just to make sure it's nothing."

For the first time since the conversation had started, Mavren looked at his friend. Matthew had never seen his friend so tense; even in battle, Mavren had been a beacon of confidence and courage despite whatever fear he felt. The anxiety in the hedgehog's eyes was not necessarily the result of fear, but of uncertainty, with which Mavren had not often dealt in his young life.

The hedgehog sighed uneasily. "Well, there's not much to tell. All I saw were a bunch of pictures."

"Pictures?"

"Aye, pictures. Like, for instance, I saw the Tapestry of Martin, right up close to Martin's face. He seemed to be crying, a tear came right out of his eye. That's why I'm worried, see?"

Matthew nodded. Martin the Warrior was the guardian spirit of Redwall; whenever Martin appeared in somebeast's dream, even if he said nothing, the dream was worthy of notice. "I understand your point there. Did you see anything else?"

Once again, the hedgehog sighed. This dream was turning out to be harder to describe than he had thought. "Well, I also saw Mossflower. It was snow-covered, just as it is now, and then suddenly, before my very eyes, the woods were well advanced in springtime. And every flower seemed to be purple."

"Well, that's not all bad. Springtime will be here in only a few weeks, and there are a lot of purple flowers."

"Aye, but this spring seemed almost - what's the word? - sinister. Like it wasn't supposed to be spring, or like there was too much spring, if you get my meaning."

The mouse was now thoroughly mystified. "I'm not sure I do, but continue. What else did you see?"

The perplexed expression returned to Mavren's face. "I saw the Abbey, all beautiful and red and snow-covered, as it is now. And then, it, too, changed; it became springtime, and the Abbey wasn't red - it was purple."

A few moments passed, in which nothing was heard but silence. Then, a snicker broke from Matthew's lips. "A purple Redwall? Hahaha, that _is_ strange, heehee!"

Mavren smiled, nervously, but broadly. "I know, it's ridiculous, right? And yet, there is still that picture of Martin. Do you think it means anything?"

Matthew sobered immediately. "Maybe. You were right, there is a large chance that it means nothing, but with Martin the Warrior, you can never be too careful. Maybe you should tell Badgermum Alba about it."

"Maybe..."

"In any case, I personally doubt there's anything to worry about. After all, a purple Redwall? The whole thing sounds absurd."

And with that, the older beast went about lighting the lamps, still chortling lightly to himself. Mavren turned back to the fire, not sure if the dream really was nothing. Something about it still filled his heart with misgivings, but he could not make any sense out of it. Frustrated, he returned to his own quarters to change from his nightshirt, trying to put the dream from his mind, but never quite succeeding.

* * *

Meanwhile, far to the north of Redwall, the darkness of early morning still reigned over the western shores. Within one of the many caves that dotted the land above the tide line, two beasts slept peacefully, having food, shelter, and warm garments to sleep in.

Though virtually nothing disturbed the serene atmosphere, one of the creatures bolted upright, jolted out of sleep by an unseen force only he could detect. He cautiously sniffed the air, and, beneath the homespun hood that hung on his head, keen eyes widened in sudden fear.

"Rano." A few yards away, the other beast, a young harvest mouse in his late teen seasons, turned over in his sleep. His companion's voice had entered his dreams, but he paid no mind to it, wanting only to slumber for a few more seconds.

The first-wakened creature crossed the cave within a matter of seconds and, none too gently, shook Rano into wakefulness.

"Rano, git up. They're comin'."

The harvest mouse groaned grumpily, and sat up. Like his companion, Rano spoke with a Borderland accent, which was somewhat muddled in his half-asleep condition. "Ach, Korren, can't a fella get some sleep 'round 'ere without ye shakin' 'im 'alf to death?"

"Git up, Larkspur! They're comin', can't ye smell it?"

"What, those Juska we saw last night? They'd not sighted us the last I looked."

The taller beast paid no ind to his companion's statement, merely went further into the cave to frantically pack his haversack.

_Come t'think of it, the air does smell a mite strange_, thought Rano. A thick, fragrant perfume seemed to flavor the wind, smelling vaguely like a combination of violets and his mother's cinnamon buns, only much more enticing. That was odd; the only smell he should have been able to detect was the awful, briny scent brought on by low tide.

Rano's eyes widened. "Great seasons! Not _them!_"

"Aye, _them_. Now git up an' git yer weapons on. We must away, afore they notice us."

The young harvest mouse quickly did as his companion commanded. He had two blades, a sword and a long, curved dagger, which he thrust into the proper sheaths on his belt. Korren was already prepared; his haversack was completely packed, his blades were within their sheaths, and he was in the process of sweeping way the last remnants of their campfire from the night before.

"Can ye sense 'em yet?"

The taller beast stood up, casting his haversack over his shoulder. Moonlight faintly illuminated the cloaked form of Rano's companion, and, though it was still too dark to see the coloration of Korren's fur or other small features, he was revealed to be a powerfully built mouse only a season or two older than Rano. "Aye, I can sense 'em, an' they're not too far away. We need t'urry, lad."

"Where d'we go?" the younger mouse asked, shoving the last of his supplies into his own haversack.

Korren sniffed the wind, a grimace of intense concentration forming around his mouth, the only visible portion of his face. "South. That wind's comin' from the north; likely as not, that's where they'll be. We'll probably go due south a bit, an' then cut east an' try t'lose 'em in the woods. C'mon!"

The two mice set off down the beach, not running, but walking quickly, carrying their burdens with a grim determination. They walked in the shallows of the ocean, so that the coming waves neatly obliterated their pawprints. The scented wind blew invitingly at their backs, but they ignored it, wrapping their snouts in their heavy winter cloaks. Had they stopped to look back in the wind's direction, they would have seen the source of the fragrance: a Juska camp in the distance, whose usual squalor had been replaced with an unnatural radiance that challenged the rising sun in its brightness.


	3. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I'm a pushover for good reviews. I promised myself that I would try to update only once a week, on weekends, and stick to it. Then, two other authors reviewed, and I started getting a severe case of new-author-itis. Just a sample of what I mean: _"Two other people think that this story I've had in my head for forever is good! Yes! I'm not completely crazy after all!" claps hands and squeals_**

**So, the moral of this story...review! Flatter me! Take advantage of my new-author-itis while it lasts! I'll update early if you do, and thank you personally! I can do so...I already have six chapters finished, and one more in the works. Review!**

**jarrtail: Yeah, this be uber-bad. There are two answers to your question. 1. Sues...but their definition of "right mind" is equivalent to our definition of "crazy." 2. Me! Me! I would create a purple Redwall, just to add to the winding suspense of my story, but, then again, I have never been in my right mind, so that's to be expected.**

**Oreramar: Thanks. I'm glad you think I write well. And yes, those two mice were Sue-slayers, but not typical Sue-slayers. There's more about what they really are in Chapter Three.**

**So, very little action in this chapter...this is kind of an introduction to a few key characters, in a time of peace...but I promise you, there will be more suspense and action in the next few chapters. Til then, I'll be seeing you.**

_**Chapter Two**_

Hours after the early awakening of Mavren the Warrior, the cold light of a winter morning filtered through a small second-story window of the gatehouse's south wing. It illuminated the bedroom within, lightly touching the two beds that filled the small sapce and causing the occupants of the beds to stir.

The sleeper nearest the window, a tall fieldmouse-maid at the age of seventeen seasons, was the first to sit up. She stretched her arms up to the ceiling with a small grunt of content, and turned to face her roommate, who still snuggled deep beneath the covers of her bed.

"Wren, wake up. We have a big day today."

The second sleeper, a dainty, brown-coated mousemaid about the same age as her roommate, opened one bleary hazel eye to throw a sleepy glare in her friend's direction. "Too early to wake up."

"You've woken up earlier than this."

"Just one minute more. Too cold." And the dainty mousemaid turned over, in a futile attempt to snooze a few more moments. Her tall roommate gave her a pitiless glance with light, merry blue eyes, and continued to speak.

"Y'know, your minutes of napping are numbered. Once they awake, that noisy family of yours is going to come in, and you're going to have to wake up whether or not you want to."

"Don't care. Want to sleep. Please stop..."

The mousemaid never got a chance to finish her sentence, for at that moment, three boisterous balls of light brown fur and nightgown bounded into the room. Seeing that the tall mousemaid was already up, they lept upon the dainty one's cot, shouting happily at the top of their lungs.

"Wakey wakey, sister dearest!

"Rise an' shine, beautiful dreamer, we've got a feast to go to!"

"Wen, Wen, get up! Story festival, story festival!"

"We won't stop 'til you get up!"

Wren sighed, and sat up. After groping about on her bedside table for a few moments, she lifted a delicate pair of wire-rim glasses to her nose, giving her pretty face a serious, scholarly appearance. She regarded her assailants with a frosty glare, ignoring her roommate, who was calmly readying her outfit for the day with a small smile she could not suppress.

"So, you intend to disturb my sleep, you great hooligans. Have you no concern for tired beasts in the morning?"

The smallest furball, a Dibbun mousemaid of the age of seven seasons, looked genuinely remorseful, but the other two marauders, two young mice who were nearly identical, merely greeted her with saucy grins and glimmers of light sarcasm in their brown eyes. One of these last grinned wider than the other, and said, in his trademark cheeky tone, "Nope, and especially not for you. C'mon, Wren, you promised Lily you'd help her in the kitchen, and we're here to help you fulfill your promise."

Wren rolled her eyes. "All right, I'm up. Now get out, so that Snowflower and I can dress. That means you, Robin and Gale; Lark can stay if she likes."

The preteen boy-mice grinned slightly and shuffled out the door, one with a confident ease, and the other in a hesitant manner which Wren knew came from his near-sightedness. The smallest child stayed, overcome with joy to be allowed to stay with her forgiving big sister.

"Are ya gonna wear yer fancy dresses?"

The tall mousemaid, whom Wren had referred to as Snowflower, gave a small, indulgent giggle, as she put on a simple homespun tunic and matching leggings. "No, not 'til tonight. We have work to do."

Wren assisted her sister in dressing, choosing a small green frock that was easily washable. As she removed Lark's small nightgown and pulled the frock over her head, the bespectacled mousemaid cast a glance at her friend.

"What work are you referring to? I certainly won't let you cook; the last time you entered a kitchen, Friar Thyme was afraid you'd take over his position, and you kept teasing me about my lemon tarts."

"Hey, those tarts were burned to a crisp. Even Quirky wouldn't eat them." Wren glared. Snowflower grinned. "There's to be an indoor archery competition tomorrow in Great Hall as part of the tournament. I'm helping Isaac and Quirky to set up."

"An archery tournament. I might have known. Now, Lark, go down to Mamma and get your breakfast." The dainty mousemaid turned to her friend, who was combing her yellow fur in their small looking-glass. "Do you intend to compete?"

The taller maid grinned, her blue eyes darting toward her pride and joy, her personal longbow, which rested casually in the corner nearest her bed. "Need you ask?"

This comment merited another roll of the stern hazel eyes. "I suppose not. Make sure to comb your flower, Snow. It's a bit mussed."

Snowflower turned back to the glass, and examined the large, white birthmark that adorned her face. The mark resembled a flower with five petals, with one petal on her forehead and one on each eye and each cheek. Deftly, she ran the comb over each petal, so that every hair was neat and in its place. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The fieldmouse-maid grabbed her cloak from her bed, and, wrapping it about her shoulders, bid goodbye to her friend, who was in the process of putting on a drab cooking dress. "I'm off, Wren. Take care not to burn anything."

"Oh, _cork _it Snow!" Snowflower grinned, gently shutting the door behind her to let Wren have her privacy.

* * *

Snowflower's breakfast consisted of water and an oatcake, which Lily, the Warrior's wife, had baked that morning in the gatehouse's small stove. The pretty young hogwife watched with amusement in her gentle green eyes as the mousemaid gobbled the cake down in two bites and drained her glass in a single gulp.

"Easy there. No need to hurry."

"'Course I need to hurry, I'm late. Have fun in the kitchens, Lily!" And with that, the mousemaid sped out the door and ran all the way to Great Hall, not heeding the steadily growing horde of snowball-throwing Dibbuns who tried in vain to pelt her with their missiles on her way out. She threw the great doors open, and ran into the Hall, where she found her friends waiting for her.

"You're late, Snow!" shouted Gale, who, being dressed and properly outfitted with a clumsy pair of wire-rim glasses, was feeling much more confident than he had earlier.

Robin, Gale's younger twin, had another of his "trademarks," the cheeky smile, on his face. "Aye, matey, Quirky an' I were about to go rob the kitchens, thinkin' the tournament had been cancelled."

"Oh, stow it, you two. You just got dressed more quickly because you're boys."

"And glad of it! Although, that description doesn't quite fit Nightingale over here." At the mention of his full name, Gale punched his little brother playfully in the arm, while Snowflower and the other two young beasts in their group of friends laughed heartily.

"I don't know, Snowflower," said Isaac, the sturdy adolescent son of Badgermum Alba, with a twinkle in his grey eyes. "I think you took longer than usual to get ready because you want to look nice when the Sentinels arrive. Is there a special somebeast in the Sentinels, a handsome young mouse, perhaps, whom you want to impress?"

The mousemaid rolled her eyes and gave a very un-ladylike snort. "Are we going to put up the targets, or would you prefer to tease me all afternoon long?"

"The latter." The young badger seldom allowed himself playful moods, being a Badger Lord-in-training after all, and he was determined to make the best of his day off.

Quercus Longwhiskers Soptwoddle, the lanky young resident hare whom everybeast called Quirky, seemed to agree with his friend. "Oh, dearie me," he teased with a loud laugh, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically, "our Snowflower's going to be a pretty domestic housekeeper! Jolly good!"

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not! And if I were, wouldn't I be cooking right now?"

At that comment, the young hare sobered. "That's true, you're not cooking. Wait a minute...NO!!" Quirky fell to his knees before Snowflower, grabbing her paw and weeping piteously. "Please, _please_ tell me that Wren isn't cooking for this feast! Please, I beg of you, _please_!"

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Quirky." A dainty, bundled-up figure hurried by them, muttering grumpily under her breath as she made her way to the kitchens. Her sarcasam prompted a collective giggle from everybeast except the resident hare.

Using the distraction wisely, Snowflower wrenched her paw out of the excitable hare's grasp, shaking the offended limb in order to restore circulation. "Yes, Wren is in the kitchen. Don't worry, Lily's helping her."

Isaac grinned at his best friend, his appetite for gentle sarcasm not yet whetted. "Besides, maybe with Wren in the kitchen, we'll actually have a few goodies to eat at the feast. What a novel idea!"

The young hare gave a severe twitch of his ears in the badger's direction. "Desist with your clever remarks, sah, or I shall have to give you a firm reprimand. Badgers! Never have any blinkin' manners, wot!"

* * *

Preparation for the tournament went smoothly. Isaac and Quirky, being the tallest and strongest of the five friends, lifted the haysacks that had been provided for this activity one by one. Then, they stood them against the wall, so that the haysacks presented enough of a target for the archers. They placed them in a row by the wall opposite the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior, so that the archers would have their backs to the Tapestry when they fired. That way, when the arrows missed the targets, they would not damage Redwall's most priceless artifact.

Robin, Gale, and Snowflower had the job of pinning the parchment targets to the haysacks. They worked as a trio: Snowflower, being the tallest, pinned up the upper two corners of the target, Robin knelt and pinned the bottom two corners, and Gale held the pile of targets in his paws. The mice worked so quickly that they often had to wait for Isaac and Quirky, a fact that brought no end of teasing upon the bigger boys' heads. While Quirky responded to the insults with some whoppers of his own, Isaac remained quiet, throwing himself into his work as he always did.

When the preparations were finished, the band separated into two groups. Quirky and the twins headed toward the kitchens, intent on "sampling" some of the finer fare, which was, as Quirky so elegantly put it, "anything that Wren the Gatekeeper's daughter had no paw in making." This "sampling" probably meant that Robin was going to try to emulate his hero, Gonff the Prince of Mousethieves, and steal a hot pie right out from under the cooks' muzzles. The result of such ambition was quite often comical, since Robin forgot to use an oven mitt so often when stealing hot pies that the whole process almost seemed like a complex streak of masochism. Gale enjoyed it, as everybeast knew, and only went along with the pie-stealing plan to observe, take notes, and point and laugh when necessary. However, Snowflower and Isaac were in the mood for a more sober type of entertainment, so they took leave of the others and went for a walk on the Abbey ramparts.

Isaac ambled on, slowing his pace a bit so that Snowflower could keep up. The two friends did not speak for quite a while, preferring to enjoy the crystal clear morning, even though the chill caused their lungs to burn a bit. At the center of the South wall, the mousemaid stopped, and gazed fruitlessly into the woods for a few moments. Isaac followed her gaze, and, like her, caught sight of nothing except an endless expanse of trees.

"Are they coming from the south?" he inquired softly.

Snowflower shrugged. "They went south the last time they went away, but that was a season ago. With the way the Sentinels travel, they could come from anywhere."

Isaac nodded, and sighed, not out of the general content he had felt before, but with a slight note of sadness. "You're leaving with them this time, aren't you." It wasn't a question; everybeast had known Snowflower's plans for a season, long before she graduated from Abbey school at the end of the fall season.

The mousemaid noted the cheerless tone of her companion's voice, and felt a twinge of regret; yet, she nodded solemnly, her determination still intact. "If they'll have me, yes, I will."

Isaac's mouth twitched upward in a small, neutral little smile. "Quirky's dead set against you going. He said that he believes two seasons is too short a time for anybeast to stay at Redwall, and that, if you went, he'd throw himself at your paws and beg you to stay at least until the spring."

"No doubt because he cannot imagine life without my cooking."

"Why else?"

The two friends laughed for a moment, but ended quickly, leaving an awkward silence. The young badger turned to Snowflower, and placed a gentle paw on her shoulder.

"You'll be missed, you know that."

She had to bite her lip to avoid crying. "Everybeast in Redwall has been so kind to me. I hate to go…but at the same time, life at Redwall just isn't for me."

He nodded, understanding completely. "Nor is it for me. You're lucky; I have to wait for my uncle in Salamandastron to kick the bucket before I can fulfill my destiny. At least you can leave immediately, and you'll have nobeast to mourn when you become a Sentinel of Mossflower."

"But I'll still have somebeast to miss."

They stood in silence for a while, still staring out at the woods, enjoying what could be their last private talk as friends. Then, the quiet was disturbed by a jovial voice sounding below them.

"HOI! Anybeast home? C'mon, I'm freezing m'tail off down here!"

Snowflower peered down at the ground, and beheld an albino hare, dressed in an outfit of a dark forest green. Upon the hare's tunic was the emblem of a golden lynx eye, on the background of another eye, the brown Eye of the Sentinels of Mossflower; that was the symbol of the Sentinels' scouts.

"Commander Mattia? When did you get here?"

"A while ago, with the rest of us. Are you gonna open the gates for us or what?"

The mousemaid broke off in a run toward the gatehouse, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Matthew, Matthew, open the gates! The Sentinels are here!"


	4. Chapter 3

**jarrtail: Yes, I like the Sentinels too. Take note, however: the Sentinels of Mossflower do not belong to me. They are the property of my good friend Lilac Blacktip, who gave me permission to use any named Sentinels character (except mine, of course) in this story. More on this in my other author's note at the end of the chapter.**

**Study in Silence: Thank you very much. Encouragement is everything I need and more. Hopefully your eager anticipation paid off in this chapter.**

**And now, on to the story! High Ho, Silver! Lone Ranger music turns on from nowhere**

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

Morning dawned upon the camp of the Juskacreg, and the sun shed delicate golden tears onto each of the sleeping creatures. Elegant maidens opened sparkling eyes, and stretched gracefully, before cheerfully heading out to greet the day. Warriors woke peacefully, and flexed their oh-so-prominent muscles before starting toward the nearest meadow, intent on picking a multitude of flowers to surprise their beloved sweethearts. Delicious smells wafted from the mess tent, promising a feast of good things for breakfast despite the fact that nobeast had yet been hunting or gathering. Everywhere, eyes like a thousand amethyst crystals glistened like so many stars in the night, and everybeast wore a wide, teeth-so-white-it-almost-hurt-one's-eyes smile.

Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the wonderful added her own smile to the contentment. What a change had taken place in her aunt's tribe! Before, all had been poverty and ugliness. Now, all was plentiful and beautiful. Then, there had been discontent; now there was happiness. Hatred had transformed into love, lots and lots of love. Everything was perfect.

"Oh, Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful! You have brought peace and contentment to our valley!"

Orglan Creg stood before her, but not the same Orglan Creg. The once potbellied, nondescript weasel had turned into an absolute specimen of masculine beauty, with massive muscles, flowing gold fur, and a purple tunic of extraordinarily fine weave. His purple eyes were filled with remorse as he humbly knelt and gripped the hem of her dress in his paw.

"If only I had seen past your former appearance and knew you for whom you truly are! You are beautiful, and I am the greatest fool ever to see sunlight."

The midnight vixen bent to her old chieftain, pulling him up from his knees. "All that is in the past, my friend. Orglan Creg did those things. You are no longer Orglan Creg. I name thee Titano Mustelidio Goldenpaws, Chieftain of the Juskagoldenpaws!"

The resplendent weasel gave the vixen a look of surprise. "Why, I could not remain chieftain, not when you have done so much for us!" He turned toward the rest of the camp, where everybeast had clustered to gaze at the beautiful new vixen in awe.

"My comrades, lend me your ears!" Titano Mustelidio Goldenpaws said to the tribe, which had already been completely silent. "This fine young maiden, Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful, is the source of our happiness and prosperity. Therefore, I hereby step down as Chieftain of our tribe. All hail the new chieftess of the Juskaspringleaf!"

"Hail Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful!" And the tribe broke into cheers.

Morganna blushed modestly, and two azure tears welled up in her eyes. Airen pulled her into an embrace, smiling broadly but gracefully.

"Well done, dear heart."

Yes, everything was perfect.

* * *

Even for Sues (or, as the luminous parasites would say, _especially_ for Sues) perfection never lasts forever.

"Why do we have to leave? Everything is just fine right here!" Morganna faced her lover, her paws crossed like those of a petulant child.

Airen sighed. "Oh, darlingest-love-of-my-heart, it's our duty. We have been given a tremendous gift, and it is our duty to bring more poor creatures to the light. We must continue south, to Redwall, where the good Abbeybeasts will assist us in our noble mission."

Morganna sighed, and embraced the beautiful blue-grey-black fur of her lover. "My apologies, dearest. Let us start right now."

Airen smiled. "'Right now' is right, dearest. Can you sense the poor creature just south of us now?"

The vixen's eyes widened with compassionate excitement. "Yes, there is one innocent mouse still traveling in the darkness. Poor, sweet little fellow. I will send a detachment of my finest warriors to save him."

"In the meantime," crooned her dogfox, consumed with pride for his beloved, "we will travel to Redwall, to begin our labor of love."

"Together." A long kiss inevitably followed, and then Morganna turned to her tribe.

"Pack up your things! We must leave immediately." And, literally within the blink of an eye, the tribe was prepared to march and on the march, singing a marching song that was unprintably sweet, melodious, charming, and a whole bunch of other adjectives suitable to the purpose.

For Sues, perfection may be short-lived, but imperfection has an even shorter lifespan.

* * *

"Ye've got ta hand it to 'em, Korren. These powder-puffs know their business."

Rano and Korren crouched behind a rather large boulder, which was situated just near the cliffside. They had long passed the cluster of caves where they had taken shelter, and the boulder was the only hiding place in sight.

The larger mouse, sitting calmly out of sight behind the rock, pulled a wry face at his companion, who was cautiously peering at their pursuers around the rock's edge.

"What 'business' d'ye mean, Rano?"

The harvest mouse gradually sat back down, so that he was completely concealed once more. "Trackin'. They managed t'find us an hour after ye sensed 'em."

Another wry face. "That's cause they kin sense ye. I tried to get us out o'there quick, but they noticed ye before we got far enough away."

Rano looked horrified. "They kin sense me?"

Korren commiserated with his friend by grimacing. "Aye, they kin sense anybeast that comes within a range of about a mile 'r so. That's 'ow they're able to find new 'recruits' sah quick."

"Ye mean, they kin sense me, like you kin sense them?" Korren nodded, unsure of where his companion was going with this. "Then why can't they sense ye? I mean, you 'ave the same ablilities they do, an' considerin' the circumstances…"

"'Cause I kin hide myself from 'em. You can't."

"But can't ye hide me yerself?"

"No." The hooded mouse shook his head ruefully. "I've not advanced enough fer that."

Rano stared at his companion with a skeptically raised eyebrow. He found it hard to believe that Korren was "not advanced enough" to hide him. Bloody Hellgates! He'd seen him lift boulders that were too heavy for a fully grown male badger, all through the "strength of his will channeled through the strength of his muscles," or some other such balderdash. For season's sakes! He could hide a thousand Ranos if he wanted to!

Korren, however, returned his look with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Rano. This's harder than liftin' boulders. I've just barely learned to hide myself. I can't figure out how to hide you."

_How the blazes kin 'e read my mind?_ The harvest mouse took a deep breath to relax, so that he wouldn't kill Korren the next time he looked at him, and then turned to his companion again.

"Sah what's the plan? We 'ave t'get outta 'ere, y'know."

The hooded mouse grinned evilly. "There's only three of 'em."

Rano paused for a moment, and then a carbon copy of Korren's expression appeared on his face. "Jus' th'normal routine, then?"

Korren nodded, the grin on his face widening. "Ye read m'mind, mate."

* * *

The three warriors who had pursued Rano smiled sweetly as they approached their quarry. This was their first rescue mission, and they wanted so much to impress their new chieftess.

Fortunately for them, the poor, innocent young mouse seemed to want to cooperate; he came out from behind the boulder that hid him, a contrite expression on his young face. "Sorry, sir and madams. I didnae know 'twas ye."

Large, ugly scars deformed his nut-brown fur, and each forepaw lacked one or two digits, having only hideous stumps in the place of fingers. Blossompetal, a snow-white stoatess with glittering purple highlights that matched her stunning eyes, gasped with pity when she saw him.

"Oh, you poor dear! However in the whole wide world did you acquire such grave injuries?"

Rano wiped his – quite normal – brown eyes, clearing away imaginary tears. "Ach, pore me!" he bawled, shifting into a Highland accent that would sound phony to any ears but a Sue's. "I cannae tell sich a bonny lass…it's sah 'orrible! Ah got caught oot in a brae snowstorm when ah's just a bairn. It slayed me 'ole family, an' ah wis sae deformed. Ach the noo!" And with that, the young harvest mouse burst into tears, as fake as the first he had shed.

Annarosabella, a female pine marten with chocolate brown fur and a purple throat that, again, matched her eyes, broke down weeping as well, and embraced the young mouse. "Don't worry; you're safe now, free to live in a world free of such pain."

Rano sniffled, and looked up, a false look of hope on his face. "Really?"

Okenstaff, a male ferret with silvery-whitish-purple fur, nodded. "We will convert you now, so that you will know the happiness we are privileged to enjoy."

All three beasts gathered around Rano, placed a paw on his shoulder or his head, and closed their eyes in concentration. The young mouse, however, had lost his innocent-little-child act and was waiting with collected emotions, though his face was a bit nervous. Just as he could vaguely feel the beginning of the transformation coming over him, relief came in the form of a loud warcry.

"Hawaaaaaay the Braaaaaaaaaaaw!"

The keen blade of a sword struck Okenstaff in the neck, beheading him instantly. The female creatures stood back and breathed impossibly feminine gasps of shock, before drawing one twelve-foot-long, intricately carved sword each.

Rano drew his own sword, and lept toward the martenmaid, since she was the smaller of the two Sues; however, her stature didn't really make much of a difference advantage-wise. He swung his weapon at her time after time, but she parried each swing with effortless grace, snarling many incoherent (though beautiful-sounding) phrases that all had something to do with betrayal. Gradually, she backed him up against the cliff wall, and, within minutes of doing so, disarmed him.

"Now you shall pay for your base ingratitude, you wretch! The sword of my fathers, the legendary Star-Striker-Steel-Slayer, will rid the world of your treacherous influence! Once again, good triumphs over evil, light conquers darkness, and beauty," here she flicked her long, luxurious purple head-fur with a becoming mixture of vanity and modesty, "beats the living tar out of ugliness!" Here she pressed the blade of her weapon closer to Rano's throat.

Curiously, Rano showed no sign of panicking, even with a glittering, razor-sharp, heavily engraved sword-edge at his throat. "What's that in yer head-fur, lass?"

The big, cow-like purple eyes blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Spider! Quick, lass, I think it's venomous!"

The martenmaid squealed, dropping her sword and brushing frantically at her head-fur. With her defenses down, Rano needed only moments to draw his dagger, leap at her, and stab her footpaw.

With a gasp of pain, the unnatural creature bent down to pick up her sword and firmly dispatch her enemy, but, to her dismay, she found she could not lift her weapon. In a steadily thickening fog of dizziness, she stared dumbly at Rano.

The ugly little mouse smiled grimly. "Poison, lass. Adder. It shan't take long."

With a final shudder and a beautiful sigh, the pine marten lay down in death. Instantly, she became an ordinary martenmaid about thirteen seasons old, with dingy, unwashed fur, a yellow throat, and dark eyes, once bright, now sightless.

With a weary sigh, Rano pushed himself off his feet, trying to forget how young the maid looked. The way of his world, at the moment, was that a Sue could take over anybeast's mind and body in order to achieve – oh, whatever the bloody creature wanted to achieve, including, but not limited to, conquering the world, "saving" Redwall from a horde of more-than-usually repulsive vermin, or just seducing any unfortunate member of the opposite sex that happened to be within range. He could not let his sympathy for the host weaken his determination to eradicate the parasite. Therefore, he forced himself to remain emotionless as he retrieved his sword and dagger, and went to check on his companion.

What he beheld was a tall young fieldmouse, with firm muscles and a well-sculpted face. Unlike most fieldmice, who had gold or golden-brown fur, this mouse's pelt was a brilliant, carrot-colored shade that glistened in the midday sun. He bore a sword with a golden, intricately carved hilt set with large emeralds, and a curved dagger to match the sword.

As Rano approached, the other mouse looked up in consternation. "'Ave ye seen me cloak, Rano? I seem t'ave lost it."

"It's behind ye."

"Oh." Slightly sheepish, the fieldmouse picked up the wayward article of clothing and pulled it on, shielding his face with the hood. "Thank ye kindly."

"No problem, Korren." Rano sidled over cautiously, motioning slightly toward the decapitated body of the stoatmaid. "This 'un give ye any trouble?"

Korren snorted, wiping his blade contemptuously on the maid's now mud-brown fur; evidently, he had no tender emotions toward the Sue or its host. "Nah. She's new; Sue 'r not, she 'ad a lot t'learn. My sword gave me some grief, though."

As if to prove his point, the sword bent, right in the middle of its golden hilt. Korren cursed mildly under his breath. "Stupid idea, makin' swords outta gold. Everybeast know gold's too soft t'make swords with; it needs t'be tempered with steel or silver or somethin' t'keep it stable."

"Everybeast but the powder-puffs knows, that is."

"Aye, they're ripe with stupid ideas."

"They _are_ stupid ideas."

After a bit more joking at the expense of the "powder-puffs," Korren stood up straight, his eye toward the north.

"We'd best be goin'. They're sure t'ave sensed their loss."

"Where to?"

"Mossflower. Southwest from here."

"I thought we were goin' t'try to lose 'em in the woods, then head ta Salamandastron."

"New plan. We need to go ta Mossflower."

"Why?"

The strange fieldmouse looked his friend in the eye. "'Cause that's where they're headin'."

**All right, upon the Sentinels of Mossflower: the SoM is an RPing hangout which was established by Lilac Blacktip ten years ago. I have had the pleasure of being a member of this club for three years under the pseudonym of Snowflower, from whom I developed my main character for this story. Korren and Rano also came from characters that either belong to this site or soon will belong to it. **

**By the by, the SoM is still in existence, but we need members, badly. So, if anybody here wants to join, google "Sentinels of Mossflower" and click on the link "Enter the Woods." Follow the prompts and you'll find the site...eventually...trust me, you'll get there, but the story of _how_ you'll get there is well worth the journey. This place is heaven for young writers-to-be. Lilac holds seasonal festivals, which feature poetry contests and story contests, and keeps members busy by sending us "assignments," in which we write about our character's adventures. So, if you want to have a little fun, and keep your writing skills up to date in the meantime, the Sentinels is the place to be.**

**Well, I changed the story's summary...something tells me that my somewhat light-hearted summary was preventing my story from being taken seriously. Hopefully this fixes the situation. And, don't worry, my somewhat...odd...title will be explained in future chapters. Think "wolf in sheep's clothing."**

**As always, review! I'll try to update every three days or so, every week at the most, but only if I get reviews!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Well, it's Sunday, and I have** **very little to do, so I've decided to upload this chapter a bit early.**

**storiewriter: Thanks, I appreciate that. I hope my story will be good enough to merit being put on alert. I think it will be, but I'm biased, so I'll let you draw your own opinion on that. And thanks for looking into the Sentinels. It's a good site, I promise**

**Oreramar: Thank you for recommending me to storiewriter. I appreciate the word of mouth. And also thank you for looking up the SoM. As to your question, well, I can't answer it now, but it started a plot bunny that I'll add to a later chapter. A much later chapter, unfortunately. But, suffice it to say that Korren carries a golden-hilted sword because he, for reasons yet to be explained, has no choice in the matter.**

**And now, on to the story! A few more characters of Lilac's appear in this chapter, namely the Squirrel Brothers and Snaggletooth. Then there is Treebreeze, who belongs to another Sentinel besides Lilac. Treebreeze attained the position of Eye of the Sentinels before I joined, so she is essentially an officer of the Sentinels, and I have permission to borrow officer characters. She is not mine, and neither are Mattia or the Squirrel Brothers, or Redwall for that matter. Oy, I hate disclaimers...**

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

Mavren had very few duties on the morning of the storytelling festival, and they were trivial enough to be completed in haste without much damage to the Abbey. He could not keep his mind off of the strange dream he had, and so, when his duties were finished, he told a few of his friends about it. Primrose, the Recorder's wife, acknowledged that the whole dream seemed serious, up to the point of the purple Redwall. Lily couldn't make heads or tails of it. Sister Marianna laughed her head off and told him to get his spiked tail out of her Infirmary, because she had better things to do. Briefly, he considered telling Badgermum Alba, but decided against it; no doubt her reaction would be similar. He couldn't blame them; the dream was indeed bizarre, and he would have laughed at it himself if he had not experienced the dread that came with it.

Still restless, the big hedgehog made his way to Great Hall. There weren't many beasts there, because the festival was being held in the far warmer Cavern Hole, so there was silence enough to think. And, as usually happened when Mavren went to the Hall to think, he found himself standing before the Tapestry, gazing right into the grey eyes of Martin the Warrior.

He couldn't help allowing a small smile to appear on his face. "Good morning, Brother Martin. Having a good day so far?"

He could have sworn the fabric face crinkled a bit, allowing the eyes to express a reticent smile. However, he blinked in surprise, and the Warrior stared back at him, expressionless as usual except for the general aura of confidence that was woven into the material.

The hedgehog sighed, and shook his head. "No comfort for me, old friend? You're probably too busy upstairs for that sort of thing, as usual."

The Warrior continued to stare.

"Blast it all, Martin, what are you trying to tell me?" Mavren folded his paws and glared angrily at the Tapestry. "I love this Abbey almost as much as you do, and I would do anything, _anything_, to protect it from all enemies. But, I need to know who or what I'm protecting it from. Only you have told me anything, _can_ tell me anything."

The Warrior continued to stare. Mavren was on the point of tears now, and fell to his knees, lifting his paws pleadingly toward his predecessor.

"Please, I'm begging you! I need something to tell Badgermum Alba, and right now, I only have a dream that sounds utterly ridiculous to everybeast except me. Please, I _know_ you're trying to tell me something; give me something to work with! _Anything_ to work with! Please…"

"Talking to pictures again, hedgehog?" Mavren turned his head to behold a small, pompous-looking bankvole, who was peering contemptuously through little reading glasses perched on the end of his nose at the humbled Abbey Warrior.

"Brother Grigory. Good morning to you," the hedgehog said, rising carefully to his feet and brushing a few wrinkles out of his habit.

"Don't patronize me, idiot, I was starting on a subject." The bankvole set down the parcel of books he was carrying, and placed his paws on his hips, looking for all the world like he was berating a helpless Dibbun.

"Now Mavren, every time I see you in here, you're talking to that _picture_," he spat the word as if it was profane, "like it is real. Why?"

Mavren stared Grigory in the eye, somewhat amused and nowhere near intimidated. He and everybeast else had learned long ago not to take Grigory's babble seriously. "Not _this_ again, Brother…"

"Why?"

The hedgehog sighed. "Because I, like many generations of Warriors before me, believe that the spirit of Martin the Warrior sometimes uses this Tapestry to communicate with Redwall. We cannot see him, but we can see his picture in the Tapestry, so we talk to the Tapestry to talk to him."

"As if there is anything to talk to! Martin the Warrior is dead! He can no longer hear you, because his ears rotted away in the grave centuries ago! And any belief to the contrary is superstitious nonsense!"

Mavren paid the words no heed, because he had heard them before. Ten seasons ago, Brother Grigory had suddenly and violently renounced his belief in Martin the Warrior, and began to preach his new doctrine to anybeast who would listen. That was the reason he had l"retired" from his post as Recorder, and therefore from his place on the Abbey Council; Abbot Sage, who was as wise as his name implied, did not want a madbeast to have any say in how the Abbey was run. And Grigory was without doubt a madbeast; Matthew, at that time only Grigory's apprentice, confirmed the diagnosis by reading every passage in the archives pertaining to Martin the Warrior. There was no question that Martin had once lived, nor was there any suggestion that he did not continue to guide the Abbey.

_How do you explain the poem behind the Tapestry, which was discovered during the time of Matthias?_ Matthew had asked. _Martin would have had no "logical" way of knowing there would be a tapestry there, as it was made long after his death. He either found out about it by miraculous means and wrote that poem down, to be carved there after his death, or the poem somehow appeared there before Methuselah found it. There is some evidence for both arguments, but the record entitled "The Legend of Luke" gives some indication to the first option. Either way, the poem's existence either is__,__ or is somehow connected to__,__ a miracle._

_And how do you explain the actions of Rufe Brush after the first adventure of Mariel Gullwhacker? He climbed up to the top of the Abbey and fixed the Sword of Martin to the weathervane. His only explanation for doing it was that he felt like he had to, but seasons later, the clues purportedly left by Martin's spirit that led Matthias to the Sword directed him right to the weathervane. Coincidence? I think not. Martin was helping Rufe Brush and Matthias the Warrior long after his death._

The only reply Grigory had made was the old "superstitious nonsense" bit, despite the fact that he had read the same archives over and over again for years, and knew everything in them much more than Matthew could have hoped for at the time. Without an understandable explanation for his beliefs, Grigory's vehemence sealed his fate as a madbeast. Abbot Sage expelled him from the Council, appointed Grigory's apprentice as the new Recorder, and warned everybeast that Grigory was insane. He was allowed to wander the grounds, since he hadn't yet gone on a violent rampage, but everybeast gave him a wide berth all the same. Madbeasts were not to be dealt with lightly.

All this had occurred long before Mavren's life at Redwall. Of course, the story had been recounted to him in full when he arrived, but, not being a native, he had been able to draw his own conclusions about the Skeptic Brother. Grigory did not seem like a madbeast to him. There was too much dignity in his posture, too much determination in his theory, too much purpose in those angry purple eyes…

_Wait…purple eyes?_

"Are you listening, idiot hedgehog, or must I yell?"

Mavren blinked. "Yes, Brother, I understand perfectly what you are saying. I have since the first time you said it; it all sounds like rot to me. Now, if you don't mind, my "superstition" runs deep." And he abruptly turned around, cutting the lecture short.

A few moments later, small pawsteps pattered in the direction of Cavern Hole. "Stupid hedgepigs. Never listen to anything." Then, the Great Hall was, once again, left deserted.

Mavren remained in front of Martin's picture, contemplating his discovery. Grigory's eyes were the exact shade of purple that had been ever-present in his dreams. They were not violet, which was more of a dark blue than a purple and often occurred naturally; Primrose, the Recorder's wife, had violet eyes. No, Grigory's eyes were a bright, vivid purple. He had noticed it before, and thought nothing of it, but now…

Now the misgivings in his heart seemed to point directly toward Grigory.

As if to confirm his suspicions, a strong voice that he knew, but had never heard before, echoed in his mind. _He who thinks that I am dead, knows nothing at all…_

Once again, Mavren's gaze met that of Martin's grey eyes, not voluntarily this time, but like a beast does when he knows that somebeast else is looking at him. Martin seemed to be looking at him now, and there was an expression of determination and encouragement on the fabric face.

The hedgehog Warrior nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

The Sentinels of Mossflower were a tightly organized band of warriors, archers, scouts, minstrels, and healers, all dedicated to the continuing protection of Mossflower. Founded ten cycles of the seasons ago by a group of nine unlikely friends, the Sentinels had flourished under their first, and so far only, Leader, an astute tactician named Lilac Blacktip. In that space of time, the Sentinels' fame increased, so that everybeast in the realm of Mossflower trusted in their constant, though invisible, protection. Their movements throughout the forest were notoriously subtle, and nobeast ever saw a Sentinel unless the Sentinel wanted to be seen; however, the small army of watchers, clad in green with the brown Eye of the Sentinels sewn on their tunics, seemed to be everywhere at once. Virtually nothing went on in Mossflower without the Sentinels' knowledge, which they proudly proclaimed in their motto, "You can never escape our Eye!"

Naturally, the Sentinels were also great friends of Redwall, and small patrols often stopped by the Abbey to replenish their supplies and catch up on news. Now, the green-clad army of upwards of one hundred or so beasts was visiting en masse.

Snowflower had many friends among the archers, and many she looked up to in the Sentinels in general. She could not wait until she could join, and wear the insignia of the brown Eye. The Squirrel Brothers, officers of the Order of the Darkarrow, the archer division of the Sentinels, had heard of her intentions through a few of their trainees. They viewed her ambition with interest, and had decided, before coming to the Abbey, to do everything they could to encourage her to join.

Like, for instance, greeting her personally.

"Hello there, Snowflower," said Arrowpaw, the eldest Squirrel Brother. "Long time no see."

"Indeed," she said, shaking the proffered paws of all four of the Squirrel Brothers.

"You gonna join yet?" inquired Brushtail, the second oldest.

"You ought to," chimed in Darkfur, the youngest.

Curltail, the third youngest Squirrel Brother, rarely spoke to anybeast, but he made his opinion known by an enthusiastic nod.

"Yes, we need good archers."

"Lots of 'em."

"Plenty of 'em."

"Guys!" cried Arrowpaw. "For pity's sake, let 'er answer!"

Four pairs of eager eyes fixed upon the hapless mousemaid, anxious to hear her answer. She giggled, partially from amusement at their Dibbun-like banter, partially because she was nervous at being put on the spot so suddenly, and partially out of delirious happiness that four of her heroes, with whom she had never actually conversed face-to-face, were _actually speaking to her_. "I was going to talk to Commander Blacktip today…"

Four paws immediately clapped her on the back, accompanied by cheers.

"No need to talk to Lilac," Arrowpaw said.

"We'll talk to her for you," Darkfur continued.

Curltail nodded vigorously.

"Lilac, Lilac! Where's Lilac?" Brushtail yelled.

"In Great Hall, talking to the Badgermum," Darkfur informed.

"To Great Hall!" This was spoken by all the Squirrel Brothers, except, of course, Curltail, who just pumped his fist up into the air like the rest of them. Then, all four excitable squirrels bounded quickly out of the Gatehouse, leaving Snowflower and a few score Sentinels staring in bewilderment at each other.

Another squirrel came out of the crowd, this one a tall, capable-looking maid with chocolate brown fur, who wore the emblem of the Lynx Eye, indicating her occupation as a scout Officer.

"You're joining up?"

Snowflower nodded. "Are they always that…hyper?" she asked, pointing a paw in the direction the Squirrel Brothers had taken.

The squirrelmaid rolled her eyes, but snickered. "Yes, pretty much all the time. They were born in the Gawtrybe, after all. You'll get used to it." She offered a paw to shake, which Snowflower readily accepted. "Treebreeze Swiftarrow."

"Snowflower."

"Welcome to the Sentinels, then. Now, can you show us where the food is? We've been starving on Snaggletooth's rations for a week."

A kindly, though decidedly ugly, old rat shook his paw at the squirrelmaid, but laughed, along with everybeast else.

The mousemaid smiled. "Sure. Right this way."


	6. Chapter 5

****

Ugh, the first part of this chapter really got on my nerves. I tried to describe the Sentinel Officers to the best of my ability, but a proper description really eluded me. I suppose I could make do with this, but really, I think I could have done better on that part.

That said:

clara200: Thank you for the feedback. I don't know if my Sues will be a virus, per se, but they resemble a virus in real life. Little buggers just seem to reproduce faster than rabbits...

Adderstar: Well, do you think Grigory is a Stu?

Lilac: Yes! I love it when I get these characters right! That's the problem with borrowing characters...a writer has to be so careful to write them in character. And, for the plug to the Sentinels: don't mention it. I love the site almost as much as you do, and if there's anything I can do to help, let me know.

storiewriter: Sweet! I'm on favs! I'm hugging myself at the moment...okay, can't breathe, gotta stop. A lot of people have been asking me if Grigory is a Stu, but I can't say anything yet, because that will be answered in later chapters. However, he's definitely more than he appears to be.

And so, at long last, Chapter Five has arrived. Lights, camera, action! Where did I put that dramatic music CD, I'm on a roll...

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

Lilac Blacktip was an imposing figure of a female hare. Tall and lean, with sandy-brown fur, black-tipped ears, and a thin scar down the right side of her face, the Leader of the Sentinels of Mossflower and of the healers' Order of the Kingsnake had a no-nonsense aura around her which spoke distinctly of authority. Without giving it a thought, she held her shoulders erect with pride; being a scion of a long line of fine Long Patrol hares was nothing to sneeze at, and she knew it. However, there was something about her eyes, a slight twinkle which pervaded whatever sternness within, that indicated to the discerning observer that she was a kind, fair leader, who was not adverse to the idea of laughing. This theory of her character was soon confirmed by observing her actions; the Sentinels had often watched her after battles, setting aside planning tactics and strategies for a few moments to tend to the wounds of the lower-rank Sentinels with her own capable paws. With all these elements combined in her character, Lilac was a beast who was easily admired; whenever a Sentinel spoke of Lilac, their words were always laced with a large degree of hero-worship, no matter how experienced or high in the green army's hierarchy they were.

Bren Sprakenwulf, Leader of the minstrels' Order of the Hawk and Lilac's second-in-command, was intimidating if Lilac was imposing. The huge, grey-furred creature was some mixture between a wolf and a fox; indeed, she claimed descent from the first fox-wolf, the Urgan Nagru, and all evidence indicated her truthfulness in that matter. She was a creature who made the faint of heart or those who did not know her nervous at the very least, for there was something dark lurking in her yellow eyes, something dangerous and not completely sane, which was only controlled by a massive application of willpower on her part. Before the Sentinels had been founded, Lilac had encountered Bren when the fox-wolf had attacked her under a fit of madness, and fallen unconscious due to sheer exhaustion. Lilac took her to her home, and gradually nursed her back to health and sanity. In return, she received a friend for life, for from then on the hare and the fox-wolf were nearly inseparable.

Mattia the Dart, the albino hare who was the leader of the scouts' Order of the Lynx Eyes, was on the opposite side of the character spectrum from Bren Sprakenwulf. Orphaned as an infant and raised by warrior badgers as a playmate (and often play_thing_) for their son, Mattia nevertheless lived by the unwritten code of the hare: to eat as often as possible and to avoid being serious until absolutely necessary. That is not to say she should be underestimated; she was a formidable warrior and scout; she had eyes keener than a hawk's and ears that could detect a butterfly's sneeze from leagues away. Her name was derived from her weapons, the slew of poison darts which ranged from paralytic to deadly and turning her own game of poisoning against her was futile, because, early in life, she had developed immunity to practically every toxin known to beasts and then some. Yet, she was the one who had a smile on her face at all times, who was ready to crack a joke even when at the point of death, a trait that had saved her friends' mental health at various points in their relationship. Her scout trainees loved her, for, although the scout training was the most rigorous training program in an association famed for rigorous training programs, Mattia's upbeat personality helped most scouts to take everything in stride.

These three beasts, as different as they were, were the heart of the Sentinels, even though there were other officers of their rank and stature. Strongpaw, the badger who trained and led the warrior division, was notoriously secretive about his past; he was a loner, and even many of his fellow officers had never quite grown close enough to him to learn his circumstances in growing up. The Squirrel Brothers were a group all their own; they had grown up together, and, although they were friendly and obedient, they felt no need for any other confidantes besides their brothers. So, the three female leaders of the guilds had, from the start, worked fairly closely together as first, second, and third in command. Lilac, Bren, and Mattia had been in their tender teen-aged seasons when the Sentinels were formed; Lilac had only been fourteen at the time, and Bren and Mattia were not much different than she was age-wise. They had spent the past forty or so seasons helping Lilac's brain-child to flourish, which had bound them forever in an indissoluble bond of friendship. They were practically sisters, though Bren might not admit it, and they were hardly ever apart for long. All important events in the Sentinels found the three friends together, hip-to-hip, no matter what.

Thus, when Lilac made the customary greeting to the leader of the Abbey, Bren and Mattia were by her side, as always.

Badgermum Alba greeted them with a warm smile. "It's been too long since I've seen your faces, far too long."

"We've missed you as well," Lilac said, returning Alba's famous "badger hug" with the warmth of an old friend. "I wish I could visit more often."

"Like I do," said Mattia with a grin, as she, too, returned the Badgermum's affectionate greeting. "Your rheumatism still acting up, Alba?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Sister Marianna has tried everything she could, but it still hurts me to walk."

"Oh, I've got just the thing for that." Lilac reached into the herb sack on her belt, and pulled out a flask of clear liquid. "Sister Marianna ought to be able to duplicate it. It's helped Strongpaw quite a bit."

"Thank you child." Alba rested the flask on the table, and turned to the only Sentinel she hadn't greeted. "How are you, Miss Sprakenwulf?" she asked, opening her paws in an invitation for a hug.

Bren did not take her up on the offer, and her lip curled at the title of "Miss."

"Sentimentality irks me," she growled.

"Oh, I'll cure you of that!" Alba drew the fox-wolf into an embrace that bordered on violence, clapping her on the back several times. Bren stiffened, and glared over Alba's back at her friends; Lilac was hiding a smile behind her paw, and Mattia made no attempt to conceal her chuckles. After enduring two seconds of such torture, she pushed the badgermatron away.

"Really, Badgermum, _must_ you do that _every_ time?"

"Only until you visit and say that sentimentality does not irk you."

"Trust me, that's never going to happen," the fox-wolf muttered, glaring darkly at the Badgermum.

Alba only smiled pleasantly. "Then I'll have to keep hugging you until the day you die."

Bren growled, but made no response. Lilac cleared her throat to dispel the uncomfortable silence that had arisen.

"So, how is everything going at the Abbey? I heard you were having troubles after Abbot Sage died, but I didn't realize how badly until you had to throw the Nameday Feast so late this season."

Alba closed her eyes and shook her head, and turned toward the stairs to Cavern Hole. The three Sentinels took that as a sign to follow her, and obeyed.

"The Council cannot seem to agree on anything, no matter how hard I try to keep order. The Name for this winter season is the least significant issue we've argued about. We've tried to appoint a new Abbot or Abbess, with several good candidates from our Council, but to no avail; everybeast wants to appoint me, but I don't think I'm qualified for the job."

"Of course you are…" Mattia began.

"No, dear, I'm not." Alba rarely interrupted, but when she did, it was for good reason. "I've been informed by…_beasts further up than I am_," she whispered, "that I am to stay Badgermum, and I trust their judgment."

They took this to mean that Martin the Warrior had told her to stay put, for whom else would Alba take orders from? The Badgermum was second only to the Abbot or Abbess in authority, and there was currently neither Abbot nor Abbess. The conversation drifted to a standstill, and they walked on in silence for a while. Once they got to Cavern Hole, Alba turned to them.

"Well, friends, I must take leave of you now. Lunch is just beginning, you know the routine. Go ahead and eat your fill. The feast is not until tomorrow, but we do have a storytelling festival this evening. I hope you will be able to attend."

"Of course we will," said Lilac, gripping her friend's paw once more.

She blinked in consternation; for a moment, the Badgermum's eyes seemed purple in color. But, after she blinked, they were normal again, back to their usual grey.

Alba quickly shook Lilac's paw, and hurried upstairs to her quarters, bidding a hasty farewell in the process.

_Odd…_Lilac thought. She had no more time to meditate on the incident, however, for, just at that moment, four chattering voices she knew very well intruded on the silence. The Squirrel Brothers were excited about a new recruit, and she knew they would not let her go until she at least heard them out. She sighed; the work of the Leader of the Sentinels seemed endless at times.

* * *

"And then, Arrowpaw looked at me and said, 'That's gonna sting in the morning!'"

Everybeast laughed at Brushtail's funny anecdote, even the Sentinels, many of whom had heard it several times over. The atmosphere was so jolly that it was impossible not to laugh; Brushtail's was only the third in what promised to be a multitude of silly stories.

The storytelling festival was a custom when groups of great size visited Redwall. It was a way to while away the evening, eating, drinking, and making merry with friends while listening to live entertainment. It was also a way to catch up on news, for not all of the stories were silly; some were quite serious, and had much to do with the dangers and concerns of the times. But these were usually saved for last; it was time for laughing, not for worrying.

Mavren sat at the right paw of Badgermum Alba, as befitted his station as Abbey Warrior. His beloved Lily sat on his other paw, forcing herself to eat dainty morsels of her mushroom pasty, despite the fact that she was eating for two and was terribly hungry. Across from him sat Lilac Blacktip, in the place of the guest of honor. The rest of the officers sat in a line from her in order of their descending ranks. Falcir the Silent, an otter who bore the insignia of the Order of the Broadsword, the Sentinels' warrior guild, was just standing up from his seat near the middle of the table to contribute his own merriness to the evening. When he rose, the rest of the Sentinels cheered; evidently, this story was going to be good.

Try as he might to act like he was happy and at ease, Mavren could not clear the dream, or his frightening discovery with Brother Grigory, from his mind. He was worried, frankly worried, and nothing he did or said was going to change that.

Sensing his unease, Lily leaned in toward him, whispering in his ear. "Mav, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine, dear," he said, shaking his head and smiling fondly at her. "Just enjoy the evening."

She looked unconvinced – the woman could read him like an open book – but she did as she was told.

Falcir brought down the house with his story of a food fight that had taken place in the Sentinel's camp during the last autumn, and, sadly, he was just coming to his finishing lines. "That's when Lilac came back from the patrol she was on. She took one look at the camp, and looked directly at Mattia.

"'This is your doing, isn't it?' she said.

"Mattia just kind of smiled, and picked up one of the extra pies…"

The roar of laughter signaled the end of the story. Falcir paraded through the rows of tables, and triumphantly sat down, a smug grin on his face.

For a few moments, nobeast volunteered to tell a story, and the platform that had been built on one side of the hall for the storytellers remained empty. Mavren had a very strong feeling that he was supposed to stand up, and so he did; he had a story to tell, after all. Cavern Hole fell silent as he made his way up to the platform, and nervously faced his audience.

"Well, I must say," he said, beginning hesitantly. Great Seasons, he hated crowds! "I must say that that's a hard act to follow, especially when the tale I have to tell isn't funny at all."

There were a few rowdy beasts who cheered at the "hard act to follow" part, and Falcir nodded with an expression that clearly said "I'm awesome and I know it." However, at the mention of a serious story, all eyes were on the speaker. _Oh, yes, that makes the whole "crowd" thing __**so**__ much easier…_

He cleared his throat, and pulled at the neck of his tunic; the Hole suddenly seemed like it was far too hot. "Well, friends, what I have to say concerns us all. I had a dream last night that disturbed me greatly, particularly because it involved Martin the Warrior. I could use some input, especially from our travelling friends," here he indicated the many Sentinels dispersed throughout the room, "on what the dream could mean."

From somewhere in the back, a squeaky voice could be heard muttering "superstitious nonsense," but, other than that, a beast could have heard a pin drop. Mavren's eyes sought Alba's. The Badgermum nodded her consent to continue.

"Well, there's not really much to tell. All I saw were three pictures. The first was Martin's face, like we see it every day in the Tapestry. Only, he looked like he was sad; he was crying, a tear was rolling down his cheek. That's why I'm worried, y'see; Martin crying isn't typically a sign for good."

"Superstitious nonsense!"

From where she sat among her group of friends, Snowflower stood up abruptly, and stepped onto the table. "Shut _up_, you old buffoon!" she yelled in Grigory's direction. "Let him finish his story before you condemn it!"

"That's quite enough, miss!" bellowed Alba, who had also stood at her place. "Sit down and don't criticize your elders!" The mousemaid bit her lip, but sat down; it was an unwritten rule that, even though Grigory was a madbeast, he should be treated with respect. Alba stared hard at her, and, content that Snowflower had learned her lesson, returned her gaze to Mavren. "You may continue, Warrior."

The hedgehog nodded, licked his lips, which suddenly seemed very dry, and continued. "Well, after that, I saw a picture of Mossflower as it is now, snow-covered and cold. Then, before my eyes, it seemed to melt into spring, but not the spring we see normally. Every flower and every tree leaf were colored a bright shade of purple, and everything seemed to glitter, so to speak. It certainly wasn't the friendly spring we all await right now; I got the feeling that there was too much spring, or that it wasn't supposed to be spring. It was frightening, in a way."

Many of the Sentinels looked at each other, not in surprise, but in recognition; they had seen something like this before. A few raised their voices to inform him of their findings, but Lilac stood up and silenced them. "Let him finish, there is still one picture he has to describe."

Mavren gulped; this was the picture everybeast had found hard to believe, that sounded ridiculous. The reaction everybeast had to this last image would determine the fate of Redwall, he knew it.

"Well, ahem," he squeaked, and cleared his voice to clear the squeak. "I saw Redwall, like it is now, red and snow-covered and beautiful like it usually is this season. Then, that picture, too, became spring, the same spring as before, only with Redwall in it. But, it wasn't Redwall, not anymore; all the walls were the same shade of purple, as if the red had never existed. And…and that was when I, I woke up."

Cavern Hole remained silent for a few long, horrible moments. Mavren had never seen Lilac Blacktip look scared; flustered yes, maybe a bit worried right before a battle, but never as completely and totally afraid as she was now. Her expression was reflected in varying degrees throughout the various ranks of the Sentinels, because she, and all of the rest of them, knew exactly what his dream meant, whatever that might be. The inhabitants of Redwall, however, seemed to be in varying states of confusion. They were afraid, but only because their friends were afraid; the dominating emotion among them was that of anxiety, since they had no idea what they were afraid of. And Alba…

A deep, rippling laugh rumbled out across Cavern Hole. Alba was not in the least worried. Neither was Sister Marianna, the shrewmaid who was the Infirmary Keeper; her reedy laugh joined that of the Badgermum. They didn't seem to notice, or care, that they were the only ones laughing, and, after a moment, they weren't. Many of the Redwallers joined them, relieved that the Badgermum and the Infirmary Keeper were not worried.

Not everybeast joined, though. Lilac's face shifted from fear to disbelief, as if she had just witnessed the brutal murders of two dear friends; but, as Alba continued to laugh, her face hardened to resolute determination, and then softened to a neutral expression, neither smiling nor frowning. Bren seemed to favor undisguised anger, and rose subtly from her seat, but Lilac laid a paw on her shoulder, wordlessly ordering her to sit. Mattia didn't seem to be able to get over the shock, and stared with wide eyes at both Alba and Marianna. The rest of the Officers were in varying degrees of argument, save for the badger Strongpaw, who was resting his head in his paws as if he had suddenly succumbed to an acute headache. A few of the lower-rank Sentinels might have giggled, for old times' sake, but their hearts were not in it, and all of them were genuinely worried. Lily was as confused as he'd ever seen her. Matthew did not laugh, nor did Primrose or any of their four children. Snowflower had bitten her lip so hard it was bleeding, and couldn't seem to tear her eyes off of the Warrior. Isaac was staring at his mother as if she had suddenly gone insane, and Quirky followed his friend's example, as he did in everything.

Finally, Alba stopped her gorge of laughter, and faced Mavren with a somewhat more sober expression. "That's quite a funny punch line, Warrior! And here I thought you were going to tell us a serious story!"

Mavren stared; he had thought Alba, of all beasts, would take him seriously. "But, Badgermum, I really had this dream…"

"And so you did," interposed Marianna, wiping tears of mirth away from her eyes. "He's been bothering beasts all day with this story, Alba, including me. Like I said before, Mavren, you had something funny to eat, and fell asleep with Martin the Warrior and the color purple on your mind. It's nothing more than that, and that's my professional opinion. I must say, though, you're a brave beast indeed to let us laugh at your expense."

"But, but I…"

"Quit stammering and sit down," Alba ordered. "Other beasts need to tell stories too."

Seeing that he could not sway their opinions, Mavren sat meekly down at his place beside his wife. The evening passed uneasily. The Sentinels seemed to have run out of funny stories and news tales, and only laughed at others' stories to keep up appearances. Inevitably, the evening ended early.

Mavren, Lily, and the Recorder's family were walking through Great Hall, headed home after a disappointing night, when Treebreeze Swiftarrow came running towards them and gripped Mavren's shoulder, being careful to avoid his spines.

"Lilac's quarters, now. You should come too, Recorder. Nobeast else."

Mavren and Matthew looked at each other with concern, but complied, bidding farewell to their loved ones. Treebreeze led them away; the uncertainty within the little group of three beasts could be cut with a knife.


	7. Chapter 6

**All right, definitely could not wait to upload this chapter. You'll see why.**

**storiewriter: You want to be in this? I could arrange that for you, you know. I'm actually looking for a few different characters to put in. You could be a Sentinel, if you like, or I could put you in as one of the "scientists" that will appear later in the story. I call them "scientists" for lack of a better name, but I actually think of them as some veteran Sueslayers who are able to inform other characters about the workings of Sues and such, and since your alter-ego is one of these veteran Sueslayers, I think she would fit pretty well. Never mind, it's your choice...but could you put in a good word for me with Arawolf Beechclaw? Frankly, I'd like to see her as one of these "scientists..." something tells me she'd like the job. That sounds ominous, I know, but it's the truth.**

**Oh, and in case anyone's confused, my Sues are not the victims of a virus. One of my reviewers for the last chapter said that s/he thought of Sues as a virus, and I responded simply by saying my Sues are not a virus, but I agreed with him/her that they seemed like viruses because I dearly love to bash Sues. Sorry about whatever confusion resulted from that; it was purely my fault.**

**And now, for another disclaimer. I do not own Falcir the Silent, Ravenblade the Cunning, Riana of the Golden Eyes, or any other named officer character in the Sentinels. In fact, I'm hesitant to use Falcir and Ravenblade, since I have never RPed with them personally. It was pure luck that I became acquainted with Riana's character in an RPing tournament; otherwise, I wouldn't know she had a Highland accent. Oh, and by the way, I pretty much butchered the accent...can't figure out Scottish for the life of me, so I tend to stick to the Borderlands whenever possible. Please ignore it, if you can, good readers.**

**Okay, before I start babbling more than I usually do, let's get on with this. Please read and review. I like reviews. Like 'em. So much so that I hug myself when I get them. Pwease?**

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

Lilac Blacktip had been given one of the private bedrooms allotted to all important visitors of Redwall. It was a small room, but quite spacious and comfortable for one guest. However, "spacious and comfortable" was now a thing of the past, since a dozen Sentinel Officers were now crowded into the small space, not including Mavren and Matthew. The Warrior was actually doing quite fine in the leg room department; since he was a hedgehog, others, quite understandably, did not want to get too close to him, and so everybeast gave him a pretty wide berth. The others grabbed whatever space they could; Mattia and Matthew each secured a sitting spot on the floor, and the Squirrel Brothers squabbled a bit over the remaining floor space before Arrowpaw and Darkfur volunteered to stand, allowing Brushtail and Curltail to sit. Most of the others stood patiently near the wall, while Lilac stood on the bed. She had to lay her ears back to avoid bumping them on the ceiling, but all eyes were on her, and that was the purpose she had set out to achieve.

"All right, first, a few introductions. You all know Mavren, Warrior of Redwall, and Matthew the Recorder."

Everybeast nodded in agreement.

"As for us, well, you two have met me, Bren, Mattia, Strongpaw, and the Squirrel Brothers." The officers indicated each raised their paws in turn. "I think you have met Treebreeze, our Eye of the Sentinels. Am I right?"

"That's correct," the squirrelmaid replied. "We did introductions on the way."

"Okay, so I guess that just leaves you three," Lilac said, glancing at two otters and a badger who lined the wall on her right. Those three nodded their agreement, and Lilac turned back to her guests.

The first beast she indicated was Falcir, a tall, muscular otter. Mavren had seen him at the feast, but he hadn't met him. "This is Falcir the Silent. He is our top warrior, next to Strongpaw, and is the highest Blade of the Sentinels. That's a warrior captain under Strongpaw, if you do not know." Falcir inclined his head toward them, a gesture they both returned.

Next was the badger, huge like most of his species, but not a Bloodwrather, from what they could tell. "This is Ravenblade the Cunning. He is also a Blade of the Sentinels, and is known for his wisdom in planning attacks." Another round of bowing heads followed.

Finally, there was a tall ottermaid, who wore a Highland kilt with her Sentinel tunic, and had spoken with a brogue at the feast. "This is Riana of the Golden Eyes, our third Blade of the Sentinels. She is also one of the first officers we have received from the Highland regions." The greetings were exchanged again.

"Now, Warrior, what was that second picture you mentioned seeing in your dream? It sounded familiar to us all." Once again, every eye in the room was upon him. Mavren had known he would be in the spotlight when he became Abbey Warrior, but this was ridiculous.

"You mean, the one where the forest suddenly entered springtime, and everything seemed to be purple?"

"That's the one. I called you here because you, and Matthew there, were among the few Council members who actually seemed to believe that picture was valid. I was wondering if Martin had said anything to you about a solution to the problem."

The hedgehog shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I saw nothing more than those three pictures."

Lilac's face had an uncharacteristically pleading expression; obviously, she was on the brink of desperation. "Surely you saw _something!_ It's not like Martin to leave us so empty-pawed."

"I'm sorry, but he told me nothing more. Up until now, I was even unsure that I had not just had a nightmare, like everybeast said. I think Martin wants you to tell me what I'm dealing with."

The sandy-colored hare closed her eyes, and sighed in disappointment. Mattia, seeing that her leader was indisposed to speak, turned to the Warrior, and began her explanation.

"We've been seeing the exact illustration of your dream all over the place, especially in the northern woods of Mossflower." The albino hare, her face unusually grave, inclined her head to Treebreeze and Riana in turn with a casual air that defied her solemn demeanor. "Treebreeze and Riana had a run-in with the source of the problem."

The eyes of the squirrelmaid and the ottermaid met, and, in an unspoken decision, Riana spoke first. "We were leadin' a patrol of five an' ten beasts, up beyond th'River Moss. There 'ad been reports of a vermin band, causin' trouble with th'locals, but nothing like wit we saw."

Treebreeze spoke next. "The further north we went, the more the forest seemed to be dotted with clearings. At first, we thought it was just a blight; the forest endures a deadly sickness once about every twenty seasons, but it usually recovers, and there's very little we can do to cure it anyway. But, gradually, the clearings became less and less frostbitten, and more and more springlike, until, at last, we came upon a clearing that was further advanced than any before it and completely purple."

"All this time, ah wes thinkin' that somethin' wes really wrong w'the climate, 'r simthin'. There've been arely springs, yes, but never this arely; it wes in th'middle o'winter, for season's sake, about a month along! An' it wes in northern Mossflower, too; th'southern parts were all still wintery. Th'scientist beasties at Salamandastron 'ad been worried about simthin like this…wit wes th'word? Global Warmin', witever th'blazes thet is. But this…ah'd never expected this."

"In the clearing, was a camp, full of the most beautiful creatures we had ever seen. One of them, a female stoat with…with _pink and purple striped fur_, if you can believe me, came up to us and started talking to us, saying somethin' about…I don't know, turning to the light or something. Frankly, the whole thing sounded like dribble to me, and I stopped listening after the first two sentences."

"Ah stopped listenin' as well, bit about 'alf o'our Sentinels, most of 'em male, couldn't. Before w'knew it, we were down ta eight Sentinels an'ourselves, and they'd gained more glitterin' recruits."

"We got our tails out of there as fast as we could, but we lost another two beasts before they stopped chasing us."

Matthew's mouth was gaping open, he was so astonished. "How in the world did they corrupt them so fast? The Sentinels all seem to love serving you."

Treebreeze rolled her eyes and huffed frustratedly. "That's what we can't figure out. The vile…_things_…just laid their paws on somebeast, and, a flash of light and several sparkly explosions later, the Sentinel's one of _them_. We have yet to figure out what exactly happened."

Mavren had never felt fear so strong in his life before, not even when he had had the dream. "What…what _are_ these creatures?" he asked, beginning to tremble and sway on his footpaws in a way that made his neighbor, Strongpaw, a bit nervous about his spikes.

"Sues." Lilac had collapsed onto her bed, sitting on her haunches and massaging her eyelids wearily. Now she lifted her head up again, re-entering the conversation. "I sent another of my officers, Goldtail the eagle, to Salamandastron for information on how to fight them. Apparently the official name for them is Mary-Sues, or Marty-Stus for the males, but everybeast calls them Sues or Stus for short."

"Any advice on how to kill these monsters?" Mavren asked, anger quickly taking over for fear.

Sprakenwulf huffed a small, mirthless guffaw. "They have a strong adversion to garlic, that's all they could tell us. We've decorated our camp with strands upon strands of garlic, but we've still lost watchbeasts in the night. A few of our Sentinels, coming to relieve the watchbeasts on guard, found shiny, impossibly cheerful idiots in their friends' places, and had to kill their own comrades-in-arms to save themselves. Our story has not been pretty."

"But that's not the most important of our problems right now." Lilac turned, and faced Mavren head on, looking him straight in the eyes. "I have reason to believe that the beasts in this Abbey are being affected by these creatures. Tell me, have you ever seen a beast with eyes _that_ color purple?"

The hedgehog thought back to his disturbing encounter with the Skeptic Brother that day. "Yes, Brother Grigory has had those color eyes for as long as I have known him."

"Then there are three of them in Redwall. The Sues we have been dealing with always turn a beast's eye's purple when they control them; purple seems to be a constant thing for them. Alba's eyes turned purple as she laughed. I could have sworn she was somebeast different if I hadn't been talking to her normal, grey-eyed self moments beforehand."

"Sister Marianna was like that as well," grumbled Strongpaw. "I got a good look at her face; she was right across from me."

"What are we to do, then?" Matthew cried. "We cannot slay our friends! But neither can we allow this to continue."

"I agree, but there's nothing we can do," Lilac sighed. "Alba's eyes were perfectly normal when she stopped talking to you, Mavren; she looked lost, almost as if she had no idea what had just happened or why everybeast was staring at her. Was it the same with Marianna, Strongpaw?"

"Yes."

"So, whatever Sue-spell is over them, it does not control them all the time. So, we need to find the source of the problem. What are Grigory's eyes like?"

The Warrior was now completely recovered from his shock from a few moments before, and able to answer immediately. "His eyes are always purple, or at least they have been every time I've seen them."

The Leader of the Sentinels regarded him somberly, and nodded. "Then that's the beast we need to watch. I propose we kill nobeast yet," here she interposed a warning glance at Bren Sprakenwulf, who looked slightly disappointed. "We have no evidence that Grigory really is a Sue, er, Stu. However, we do need to keep a watch over him. Sentinels, I order you to track his every movement. Mattia, Treebreeze, you may tell a few scouts that you would trust with your lives about this matter, and recruit their help. The rest of you, keep this secret. I want no panic in the ranks."

"But what about our families?" Matthew objected. "We can't just waltz in, tell them to wear garlic at all times and to stay away from Grigory, without having to answer questions. We need to keep them safe, and they won't be safe unless they know what they're up against."

"Then tell them, or, at least, tell your wives and the children you know will not panic. But make them swear to secrecy at all costs; we cannot risk this matter leaving this room at the moment. I've even taken the precaution of having a couple guards hidden outside to protect us from eavesdroppers, it's that dangerous.

"So, are we all agreed as to our plan of action?" The Sentinels, Mavren, and Matthew all nodded. Lilac stepped off of her bed, and went to her dresser to prepare herself for sleeping. "Then you are dismissed. Leave now, and get some rest while you can. Something tells me we will need it."


	8. Chapter 7

**All right, another chapter up. I'm sorry, it's a filler chapter, but, hopefully, a good one.**

**Adderstar: Of course I'll include you! You did not come off as arrogant at all; I'm looking for a few extra characters. I'll tell you what would come off as arrogant...me, who has only written part of a Sue-parody so far, being the only named Sentinel who is not an officer, or the only _veteran_ Sueslayer at Salamandastron. Do you mind if I make you a scientist? And, if anyone else wants their Redwall alter-egos to appear in the fic, please feel free to ask...I cannot use a character without permission.**

**BaiMaoRiegi: Thank you for the feedback about the accents. And, by the way, great name, both for here and for the Sentinels. I'll look for you when I visit the site.**

**storiewriter: Thank you for permission to use your character. I'll keep the garlic juice flowing, especially in later chapters.**

**Lilac: Yeah, good ol' Mattia. That would make an awesome story, come to think of it. It's all yours. Oh, and sorry for the late thank-you; you must have posted the review after I posted Chapter Six, but before Chapter Six actually appeared on the site. Sigh...slow connections, what can you do?**

**Chickweed is mine, though he does not appear on the Sentinels website; Lilac, you will probably recognize him from my assignments. Lord Darkstripe, Ranaria, Fosk, and Rillame I made up on the spur of the moment, but they are mine too. I learned the archery etiquette mentioned near the end of the chapter..."Line's hot," "Line's clear," etc...when I shot for a 4-H group in my younger days. Yes, I'm really an archer, yet another of my innumerable talents. Bow to my total awesomeness, ye randomly generated minions of my genious imagination!**

**The voices in my head are giving me strange looks. Don't ask me how I know that, since they are voices, and technically do not have eyes, but trust me, they are looking at me as if I am crazy. And now, dear readers, you probably are as well. Oy, I _hate_ caffeine...**

* * *

_**Chapter Seven**_

When Mavren and Matthew returned home late that night, Matthew had immediately taken Primrose and Wren aside. He had invited Snowflower as well; the fieldmouse-maid was not his biological daughter, but, like all the other beasts he had "taken in," Matthew considered her as good as a daughter. Plus that, she had a head on her shoulders; he had to send Lark and the boys to bed, because he knew for a fact that they could not keep a secret, but Snowflower, he knew, would not tell anybeast she didn't trust with her life about a secret this important. So, Primrose, Wren, and Snowflower, plus Lily across the way, were the only beasts who had not attended Lilac's meeting who were in on the secret, and they guarded the secret well.

The next day, Primrose ordered her younger children to wear one bulb of garlic on a string around their necks, and told them to hide it under their bulky winter clothing. The children complained, saying they stunk to Dark Forest, and demanded the reason for wearing the offensive herb, but Primrose silenced them with a curt "Because I said so" and the matter was settled. Complaining to their elder sister was to no avail; Wren simply held up her own pungent necklace as an answer, and went back about her duties.

Isaac and Quirky were less easy to convince. Snowflower had to shush the irrepressible hare several times to get him to understand that he had to be quiet, and, when he did finally fall silent, he glowered at her like an angry Dibbun.

"I'd rather not do this, Snow," Isaac complained. "I've got a battle contest for the tournament today, and, with _this_ combined with the sweat I'm going to produce, I'm gonna _reek_."

"_You_ already reek," Quirky commented, holding his nose and glaring pointedly at the mousemaid.

"I know, guys, I know. I can't tell you _why_ you have to do this, you just _do_. It's really, really important. Please?"

The young badger noted the serious look in her eyes, and suddenly understood. He had known something was up since the night before, when his mother had acted so strangely, but Alba had responded to his questions with silence. He suspected that Snowflower's secret had something to do with his mother's behavior, but, if neither of them could speak about that, he understood enough about important secrets to be able to respect one when he saw it. Without another word, he put the necklace around his neck and the garlic under his shirt.

Quirky continued to glower.

Snowflower smiled enticingly, lowering her voice to a seductive whisper. "I'll make you a huge bowl of my meadowcream pudding, all to yourself, if you do this for me."

There was no denying the increased interest in the hare's eyes, but he kept his face set in the glower, glancing at her suspiciously. "You'll make sure there are strawberries in it?" he grumbled.

"They'll have to be strawberry preserves at this season, but they'll be the very best strawberry preserves. I'll modify the recipe."

Quirky's eyes shifted from side to side, and he leaned toward her, putting his mouth close to her ear. "There'll be blackberry preserves as well? And whortleberry jam?"

"Yes, yes, I'll add them both."

The hare considered her offer silently for a few moments, with a serious expression on his face. Isaac rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it already, Quirk."

After a few more moments of maintaining the suspense, Quirky swiftly pulled the garlic necklace over his head. "All right, I'll wear it." He bent down and placed a huge, sloppy kiss on the mousemaid's cheek. "Anythin' fer your cookin', young miss. By the fur! I swear, if you were a haremaid, I'd bally well marry you just for your meadowcream pudding."

Snowflower wrinkled her nose, and wiped the slobber off of her cheek with the pack of her paw. "Uh, _ew!_ Mousemaid or haremaid, that idea is just plain _repulsive_."

Isaac's face was contorted into an expression closely akin to a grimace of pain. "Ugh. I _so_ did not need that mental image."

* * *

If there was any event that was ideal for spying on potential Sue victims, Redwall's winter tournament was definitely that event. It was as busy affair, with hundreds of beasts either participating or helping to organize the festivities. Nobeast noticed the few select Sentinels who stayed on the sidelines, keeping a close watch on the suspected Sues.

There was the battle contest outside, in a marked area near the belltower. Isaac had entered this contest, purportedly to "see if the daily practices at four in the morning had really paid off in helping him improve." Snowflower and Quirky had rolled their eyes at that; they knew that he wanted to show off for his mother, who was the most eager, if the most reserved, spectator in the crowd that gathered to watch her son. Strongpaw's presence could have also affected Isaac's decision; the old badger was a renowned warrior, and could possibly make a favorable report of the young badger's performance to his friend and Isaac's uncle, Lord Darkstripe of Salamandaston. However, it did not escape Isaac's notice that Strongpaw's attention seemed to be fixed more upon Alba, and not upon the budding warriors before him. That confirmed his conclusion from earlier; something strange was going on, and his mother was at the heart of it.

There was also the cooking contest going on in the kitchens and Cavern Hole, which Quirky, the self-appointed food connoisseur of Redwall, was judging, this time with the permission of the cooks. To the hare's horror, Wren had joined, at the bidding of Friar Thyme, the head cook. Quirky and his friends were sure that Thyme had done it to get his revenge on Quirky for raiding his kitchens all the time. Incidentally, the hare had begged Snowflower to participate, but, at one glare from her adopted sister, the mousemaid had stoutly refused to even go near the competition. Lilac Blacktip and Mattia the Dart, however, made sure to attend. Mattia had a reputation for being the stereotypical glutton of a hare, so everybeast expected her to attend; therefore, she had an opportunity to get a good look at Friar Thyme, another Council member who had laughed. Before he chased her away, she managed to note that the plump squirrel's eyes were brown, but, of course, that could easily change. Lilac had another in her sights: Sister Marianna, the Infirmary Keeper. Their shared interest in herbs and spices guaranteed a conversation between the two of them, so Lilac would be able to pinpoint the exact moment when Marianna's eyes turned colors.

The Sentinels were famed for being skilled writers as well as seasoned warriors; thus, the contest that attracted the most attention from the Sentinels was the poem and song contest. This was the place where everybeast expected Wren to shine; being the Recorder's daughter, she had been exposed to great writing of all types since birth. Never one to let down her adoring public -- _cut it out with the sarcasm, Isaac!_ -- the studious young mousemaid had entered a poem in the contest. Already, hers was the sheet of parchment that attracted everybeast's attention, leaving the other entries lonely and deserted. Bren Sprakenwulf herself had made a positive comment on the poem, which was no small compliment, since the fox-wolf's standards for poetry were infamously high. Snowflower would have hugged herself if she had received such praise, but Wren, who was almost as anti-sentimentality as Sprakenwulf, simply allowed herself a satisfied little half-smile. This was the contest Grigory had his eyes on, since he was the former Recorder and an expert in his field, even though he was a bit crazy. Due to his presence, the most Sentinel spies were present, most notably Sprakenwulf, Treebreeze, Falcir, Ravenblade, and Riana, as well as a few of Mattia's most trusted trainees. As usual, nobeast noticed their attention to Grigory except those who knew they were paying attention.

Finally, there was the archery tournament, held in the Great Hall itself. Snowflower had waited for this very competition for a season and a half; this tournament was the place where young archers like herself got noticed, where the Sentinels found those who shot with the steadiest paws, the most remarkable precision, and the deadliest accuracy, and offered them a place in the renowned Order of the Darkarrow. The Squirrel Brothers themselves were going to be judges, which had been their intent the whole time, even before they knew they had to keep an eye out for Sues. Although it was true that she had already expressed her intention to join, Snowflower feared that her rebellious outburst in the festival the night before had turned the Sentinel officers' against accepting her. Hopefully, when they saw how well this mousemaid could shoot, they would change their minds.

The fieldmouse-maid had taken great care with her wardrobe today; she wanted to feel as confident as possible, and perhaps make a good impression on the judges. Nothing too fancy; she needed to be able to shoot without worrying about her sweat ruining her good clothes. Finally, she decided on a blue tunic and leggings, which complemented her features, but were simple enough to allow her a wide range of motion. Then, she practically inhaled her breakfast – _easy, you're going to choke!_ – and ran out of the door.

* * *

Great Hall was stuffed to the doors with beast of all species and ages. That is, the middle of the hall was empty – all the space between the red line where the shooters would stand and the targets on the opposite wall was roped off, so that the spectators would not be in the line of fire – but all of the areas open to the public were crowded.

The contestants prepared their equipment in a designated area, right below the Tapestry. Snowflower painstakingly examined her longbow for any conspicuous scratches or splits, hoping that she had been sufficiently thorough in her examination the night before to detect all of the inconspicuous infirmities. She could see nothing; her baby was its normal, beautiful self, complete with the flower markings, her "snowflowers," she had dyed into its strong yew wood when she had first made it. Satisfied for the moment, she made sure that the polish she had rubbed in the night before had sunk in; she did not need slippery paws when firing. _No polish left, good_. Next, she strung her bow, and waxed the bowstring thoroughly to make it strong. The bow was ready.

Next, she examined her arrows. Like with her bow, she had made the arrows herself, choosing the best ash wood and whittling it with undying patience. The fletchings also reflected her signature; each arrow was fletched with white feathers, acquire by stalking and plucking unsuspecting white birds. Irakra, the albino sparrow king who dwelt in the uppermost reaches of the Abbey, had a warrant out for her death at the moment, but it was well worth it, both for the feathers and the startled look that had appeared on the sparrow's face when she had obtained the feathers.

At a loud whistle from Arrowpaw, the competitors stepped up to the red line. They each stood with one footpaw, their non-dominant footpaw, on the line, and their other footpaw directly behind it, so that they could use their dominant paw to hold their arrow when aiming.

"Darkfur, is there anybeast in the way?"

"No, line's clear."

"Okay then. Line's hot!"

At the signal to begin firing, the archers raised their bows, took aim, and fired. Each archer was allowed four shots; after an archer was done with those four shots, he or she lowered their bow and stepped slightly behind the line, to indicate they were finished. Once everybeast was behind the line, Brushtail looked both ways to make sure there were no more arrows being fired.

"Line's clear!" he shouted. Darkfur and Curltail then stepped out into the roped-off area. Each had a piece of parchment in their paws, with which they noted the score of each archer. When they met in the middle of the line of targets, they compared notes, and Darkfur yelled out the names of the ten archers who had scored the lowest, and were thus eliminated. Snowflower breathed again; her name was not among them.

When Darkfur and Curltail got out of the way, the archers moved forward to collect their arrows. Snowflower gripped each arrow near the point where it entered the target, to avoid harming the fletchings. She forced herself not to look at the others' scores; she knew that, if she scored well, the knowledge would go to her head and make her cocky, while, if she was the lowest of the ten qualifiers, she would be shooting scared. Neither option could be tolerated, so she made herself examine the arrows she had fired for damage, and willed herself not to listen to the more competitive archers, like the otter Chickweed, a Sentinel who dearly loved to boast about his score.

In the next round, each archer had three shots, and the five archers with the lowest scores would be eliminated. Snowflower nocked an arrow to her bowstring, and waited for Arrowpaw's signal.

"Line's hot!"

The mousemaid took a deep breath as she drew her bowstring back to her cheek, and aimed carefully with her left paw. She released the breath as she let go, trying to release the string as gently as possible. With this process, her three shots were spent before she knew it.

"Line's clear!"

Once again, Darkfur and Curltail judged the contestants' scores. Five names were called out; Snowflower's was not among them. She had made it into the top five.

The third round demanded that each archer shoot twice, and two contestants would be eliminated, leaving three to compete in the final round. Snowflower tried not to feel too confident, but it was hard; she could feel that she was shooting at the top of her game.

"Line's hot!"

Two twangs of the bowstring followed.

"Line's clear!"

Two names were called out. One of the archers eliminated was Chickweed. When he heard his name called out, he flew into a fury, crossing the line before Arrowpaw said he could.

"You call that scoring!" he bellowed into Curltail's face. "Look, I shot closer to the bulls-eye than that maid did! I actually got a perfect score!" He was pointing to a target – Snowflower's. Her eyes widened; if he was right, she would be eliminated, and her hopes for impressing Lilac with her skills would be lost.

Curltail was not intimidated, but he was surprised by the otter's sudden loss of temper. Darkfur immediately came to his brother's aide.

"Chickweed, the numbers do not lie. You got a perfect bulls-eye, which is worth ten, but your other arrow hit on the line separating the yellow and red areas, which is worth a seven. Snowflower shot two nines; she has an eighteen, you have a seventeen. She wins, end of question. You _do_ know the rules to this, don't you?"

The otter stared belligerently into Darkfur's face, obviously having no respect for the older archer. However, the squirrels' judgment was unshakable, and both Curltail and Darkfur matched their wayward trainee glare for glare. Finally, the otter returned to the area behind the red line.

"This contest is rigged!" he shouted, once he was well away from all of the Squirrel Brothers. He threw his bow to the floor, and stormed out of the room, too angry to even gathered his arrows. Arrowpaw looked at Darkfur, who nodded, and raised his voice again.

"For conduct unbecoming an archer of his station, Chickweed is hereby disqualified from the competition. The weaselmaid Rillame receives fourth place by default."

Snowflower was hardly breathing; she had been so close to losing her place in the top three. When Arrowpaw released the archers to retrieve their arrows, she took a moment to force air into her lungs before she started walking. She couldn't lose her nerve now; it would be catastrophic.

Everything seemed to converge on her right before the final round. When she pulled out one of her arrows, it snapped, leaving a good half of itself in the target. She spent a few moments trying to pull the remains out, but it didn't budge. Eventually, Curltail waved her out of the way, and tried to pull the arrow out himself, but, even though he was of a larger species than she was and had more strength, the arrow still wouldn't come out. Darkfur came up behind him and started pulling as well, and, after a few tense moments of pulling and waiting, the arrow came flying out, bowling over both Squirrel Brothers in the process. Curltail picked himself up and gave the half-arrow to Snowflower, suppressing a smile as his brother chattered several fairly unprintable curses in the Gawtrybe dialect while getting up. The mousemaid smiled a bit too, but her heart was pounding forcefully in her chest.

The other two finalists were a squirrelmaid named Ranaria, who was a Mossflower resident on a visit to the Abbey, and Fosk, a ferret, who, though he was unaffiliated with any hostile vermin groups of any kind, still managed to give his opponents a sour scowl before the final shoot. Snowflower tried to ignore him, but failed; with all the drama that had occurred in the third round, she was starting to succumb to the nervousness she had managed to will away from herself beforepaw.

For the final round, the contestants took turns at the red line. Each archer shot once, and the result of that shot determined what award the archer would get. Fosk, having achieved the highest score in the preceding round, got to go first.

Ranaria took a moment before Fosk drew to look at Snowflower. "Good luck," she whispered.

"Thanks, you too."

_Twang!_ Fosk was done, so Ranaria stepped up to the line.

Snowflower stared at the floor, trying hard to keep her heart from stressing her stomach to the point of vomiting. She tried to remember what her father used to say to her when she was little and very nervous; she knew his proverbs by heart, but, even with that beloved topic, her mind was a blank.

_Twang!_

It was her turn. Snowflower took her place at the line, gingerly getting herself into position. She stared at the sole target she could fire at. Two arrows, fletched in green and blue, were already there, and well within the yellow zone. She estimated that they were at least eights, but were most likely nines. She had to get a perfect ten, a bulls-eye, to win the match quickly.

The mousemaid nocked an arrow to her bowstring, but didn't draw the string back yet. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. _Father, help me. Please; I'm nervous, and I can't get the seasons-danged butterflies out of my stomach._

Slowly, gently, the much-loved voice from out of her past came to her, speaking to her soothingly as it always had. _It's okay to have butterflies, Snow; everybeast does. Just make them fly in formation._

_Make them fly in formation…_

The mousemaid's eyes flicked open. In one deft motion, she brought the bow up and pulled the arrow to her cheek. She released the string, which came to a stop with a resounding _twang_ as it sent the arrow on its way. Then, she closed her eyes again, briefly. She had to prepare herself; she had to remain collected, no matter what score she achieved, to impress the Sentinels with her maturity at the very least.

A great cheer went up from the crowds, and Snowflower opened her eyes to see who they were cheering for. The fletchings told it all; four white feathers poked out from the exact center of the target, completely obscuring the x.

She had won.

* * *

**You know the routine...Review!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Well, it's been a long time since I last updated, but I'm back, folks. Unfortunately, this chapter is short compared to some of my other ones, but don't worry, the next chapter will be the longest yet.**

**Paths Crossing: Thanks so much, and no, you're not being arrogant. I'd love to put your character in my story. Just one quick question...what species is Milfoil? She sounds like a squirrel, and I probably sound completely stupid for asking the obvious, but I just wanted to make sure.**

**Adderstar: Sweet! I'll write you in. And, yeah, Chickweed is a loose cannon, but I gotta love him! A little... Anyway, the "fly in formation" quote was obtained from one of my professors, who, in turn, heard it from one of his friends, another professor I have not yet met. I heard it, thought "Now _that_ is a totally flippin' awesome quote," returned home for a long sojourn on my laptop, and _voila!_ Chapter Seven was born.**

**BaiMaoRieji: Yup, Gawtrybe be hilarious, and they also explain the SB's super-human (beast?) hyperness.**

**storiewriter: I feel for you. Sometimes I get up at five, and I hate the experience every time. Thanks for the feedback on the archery contest by the way. Technically, I haven't shot in upwards of two years, and probably remember much less than I let on (don't tell anyone...oh wait, Internet, never mind...) but the compliment put a smile on my face. More mail coming your way!**

**No more new things to disclaim in this chapter. Yay! Oh, wait...I used the exact wording Lilac used for the first archery assignment. Small apples, I know, but it's still there and it's not mine. Oh well...**

* * *

_**Chapter Eight**_

Snowflower had tried to prepare herself, honestly tried. Before she opened her eyes, she had told herself that she would not lose control over her emotions, no matter what her score was. And then, five seconds later, circumstances changed: she was now a champion of a Redwall archery tournament, and the Squirrel Brothers were looking at her, happily anticipating her arrival into the Sentinels.

Her astonishment did not release itself in the form of gleeful squeals and jumping up and down in the air, as she had expected it to do. No, at the moment when it counted, she was far too winded and relieved to do anything but stare. She had worked for seasons for this – perhaps all of her life, though, when her father was teaching her to shoot when she was only a Dibbun, she had never expected to be an archer of this quality, and had certainly never expected to go to Redwall. Now, when all of her hard work had finally paid off, she found the idea that she was finally where she really wanted to be in life somewhat hard to wrap her mind around. She was at a loss on what to do about it.

Fortunately, Quirky and her adopted brothers were there, having decided to watch her tournament once the culinary competition was over, and they were able to think for her on this matter. The young hare bounded up to her, completely disregarding the now useless safety boundaries, and lifted her onto his shoulders. Gale and Robin were close on his heels.

"Make way for the archery champion, Snowflower!" Robin yelled, trying to clear a path for Quirky toward the Redwall stairs.

"Three cheers for Snowflower!" Gale chimed in.

The audience was only too happy to oblige. "Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!"

The mousemaid found herself to be grinning with delirious happiness as she allowed herself to be carried into Cavern Hole and up onto the platform which the storytellers had used the night before.

Isaac was already there, being presented with a prize for winning the battle contest. He looked more tired than happy. To be truthful, he had not expected the contest to work out any differently - for good reason, because he was a formidable warrior - and he found the additional ceremony to be tedious. He had only joined to practice his skills a little more intensely, and had not invested anything anything in the competition so important as the dreams and amibitions Snowflower had. So, he was quite happy to relinquish the spotlight to his friend, whom he knew had worked very hard for this moment. As he left the stage, Snowflower was the only one who noticed his small sacrifice, and rewarded it with a smile; she understood his motives well, and knew he did not want the spotlight back, but she was not one to neglect anybeast who deserved her gratitude.

Badgermum Alba came up to her, and, with a smile, placed around the mousemaid's neck something on a red ribbon. Snowflower wrapped her paw gently around it and lifted it to her eye level for closer examination. It was a small white pouch, embroidered by skillful paws with the image of a red rose. The little trinket was also heavily fragrant, emitting a scent that Snowflower, like any decent Redwaller who was worth her salt, recognized instantly. Somebeast – most likely Alba herself, who liked to tend the gardens in her spare time – had gathered fallen petals from the Laterose bush and pressed them, so that the fragrance would last for many, many winters to come. Snowflower had to admit, after half a day sweating and enduring the smell of the garlic bulb beneath her tunic, this pouch was a welcome addition to her ensemble.

However, the greatest gift she received that day came once she had relinquished her spot on the stage, intending to go to her room and freshen up for the Nameday feast that evening. Lilac Blacktip herself came up to her, and greeted her cordially, though Snowflower knew that she had other, far more important things on her mind.

"I heard you want to join the Sentinels. Is that true?"

Snowflower nodded.

"Then take this." The hare placed a piece of parchment in Snowflower's paws. "This is your first assignment as an archer of the Sentinels. Complete it in writing, and turn it into the Squirrel Brothers when it's done."

"Yes, marm. Thank you."

"Welcome to the Sentinels, miss. Oh, and congratulations again on winning. I know you've been hearing that from everybeast, but still."

"Yes, thank you. Thank you very much."

Lilac smiled, and went back to the business Snowflower knew about, but dared not think about, for fear that some Sue would read her mind with some impossible telepathic skill. In fact, just thinking about thinking about it made Brother Grigory, who was only a few paces away from her, look a bit suspicious. With a valiant mental effort, the mousemaid shoved her fear back into the hidden recesses of her mind, determined that no Sue would glean any information from her. To aid her in regaining her deliriously happy state of mind, Snowflowertook a peek at the piece of parchment.

"First archer assignment: describe the longbow specifically."

That was it? Oh, she could surely do that! She had studied longbows for practically every day of her existence, so much so that she knew what a longbow looked like more than she recognized her own face in the mirror. Something told her she could get used to being in the Sentinels after all.

Snowflower hugged the parchment to her chest, and raced out of the building. Today had been a good day, and she felt a desperate need to devise an elaborate victory dance in the privacy of her room.

* * *

The feast was legendary, as all Redwall feasts were. Delicious things seemed to pour from the kitchens without stopping, and the companionship could not be better.

Snowflower sat with her friends, sipping a cup of her favorite elderberry cordial. She knew that, had this been a normal feast, they would have been laughing and chatting without reserve, having no cares and no sorrows in the world. It was true that they were laughing and chatting; currently, they were debating about whether or not they really wanted to eat Wren's plum pudding, and, oddly enough, Quirky highly recommended the dish, saying it had tasted delicious in the cooking competition. However, there was something lacking in the conversation. They all knew that something was up, although only Wren and Snowflower knew exactly _what_ was up, and all six friends seemed to be filled with a groundless dread.

Mavren, Matthew, and the Sentinel officers felt the dread as well. Sues enjoyed fantastic scenes full of drama, and a feast full of unsuspecting Redwallers was the perfect setting for one such scene. Something was going to happen, and they knew it; a beast could tell by the way Mavren uneasily fingered the Sword of Martin at his side, or how Mattia patted her dart pouches on the sly for a quick inventory check, or how Lilac kept a casual paw on her rapier. They were ready.

When the Badgermum got up, naturally everybeast's attention was upon her, but those who knew the most about what was happening to Redwall were the only ones who truly observed her. Isaac, who knew his mother the best out of everybeast in the room, viewed her with surprise. Why was she so…graceful? His mother usually lumbered when she walked, a beautiful gait in its own right, especially for badgers, but nothing close to the gorgeous glide which now characterized her steps. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Fellow Redwallers," Badgermum Alba said as soon as she reached the stage, facing the audience with a becoming gentleness. "As you well know, our Council has encountered some exceedingly minor difficulties in selecting a successor to our beloved former leader, Abbot Sage."

The room murmured, and a few beasts snickered. Minor? Nothing that delayed the Council's decision for upwards of a season could possibly be called minor.

Alba quieted the room with a simple charming smile, not moving her paws or moving any muscle except those necessary for smiling. The keepers of the secret were now thoroughly alarmed; in a room this size, any normal beast would have to wave their paws in order to ensure the audience's rapt attention.

"But," the Badgermum continued, "those difficulties have, at last, been resolved. This very morning, the Council elected a capable, honest, modest, and educated beast to the position of Abbot."

Mavren and Matthew looked at each other in alarm. They had had no say in this sudden election, because they had not been informed of a Council meeting. Who on earth…?

"And so," Alba continued, "I am pleased to present to you, as your new Abbot and leader of Redwall…"

A dramatic pause. Mavren came to a sudden, terrifying conclusion moments before the name was announced. _Abbot? No…she couldn't possibly…_

"Brother Grigory!"

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN!! Sorry, I couldn't resist...**


	10. Chapter 9

**storiewriter: Ah, hissing at the computer; you almost sound like my sister. Weird, but cool nonetheless. Anyhoo, you wanted a longer chapter? Well, ta da! Enjoy!**

**Bdeogale Nigripes: Cool! I got the reaction I wanted! Victory dance, w00t!**

**Paths Crossing: Nope, 'tis not good at all. What will they do? ... Well, this chapter should give the first step to what they are going to do.**

**Adderstar: That's okay, Kenzie might get a chance to attack Grigory later, or any of the other Sues. I'm sure she'll enjoy it.**

**No new things to disown here. I made Ironpaw and Reedflame up in like two seconds, but they're still mine. And now, to the main attraction...**

* * *

_**Chapter Nine**_

A stunned silence hit the room as the pompous little bankvole strutted up to the platform, a satisfied smirk on his ignoble face. The keepers of the secret stared in abject horror as Grigory faced the room, and began an impossibly long, flowery acceptance speech.

"Fellow Redwallers, I sinceredly thank you for putting such profound confidence in my humble abilities…"

Mavren gaped, unable to do anything but listen to a helpless little voice in his head, which, in turn, was unable to say anything except _this can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening…_

* * *

Snowflower was also gaping, and her mind was also making a valiant effort to recover from the unwelcome news of Brother Grigory's election as Abbot of Redwall. However, the voice in her head was not nearly so helpless, nor did it belong to her subconscious self. It was another voice, a strong voice she had never heard before, but immediately recognized.

_Get out of Cavern Hole. Help me…they are going to take me._

The mousemaid looked at her friends at the exact same time they looked back at her. Evidently, they had received the same message. Snowflower locked eyes with Wren, and the two sisters came up with an unspoken plan upon the spot.

The dainty mousemaid stood up shakily, and then collapsed to all fours. Discreetly, she shoved a claw into her throat, inducing herself to vomit quite easily with her full stomach. Snowflower was by her side before anything else could happen.

"Oh dear, Wren, are you okay?"

Wren's only answer was a fit of dry heaving. She had never made herself throw up before, and she made a mental note never to do so again. The process, once started, was nearly impossible to stop.

Isaac knelt near his ailing friend, and, once she was done coughing, delicately picked her up. "It looks like she's caught a stomach virus. We'll just take her to her room, Mother."

Alba made no objection; in fact, she hardly noticed, her attention mostly fixed on Brother Grigory. Isaac hated to leave her here, especially with something bad happening that he could not fully understand, but Martin could not be ignored. He carried Wren out of the Hall, closely followed by Snowflower, Quirky, Robin, and Gale. Matthew and Primrose also stood from their seats, and taking Lark by the paw and leading her away. Mavren and Lily glanced at each other, and reached an unspoken decision; the hogwife briefly squeezed her husband's paw before following their friends, leaving the Warrior alone, save for the Sentinels.

Oddly enough, even though only one or two beasts were technically needed to attend to a mousemaid with the stomach flu, nobeast noticed that Wren was accompanied by her entire family and five of her closest friends.

* * *

Grigory narrowed his eyes at Wren's untimely interruption to his speech, but continued talking when he decided that the mousemaid seemed genuinely ill.

"My first act as Abbot will be to abolish the outdated devotion to Martin the Warrior, to fully bring Redwall into touch with the spirit of modern times. We have advanced too far to place our hopes in long-gone warriors who are now mere skeletons. Redwall will now have only Redwall to trust, lead by a leader who is living and breathing. Superstitious practices will no longer bind us to ignorance."

"Superstitious practices! Ignorance!" Mavren had had enough. Now, he stood from his seat, and marched straight up to the platform. He literally towered over the bankvole, and he used his height to his advantage, thrusting his face into Grigory's to fully emphasize his anger.

"Now, you listen here, Brother."

"Abbot!"

"Brother! I refuse to acknowledge you to be Abbot. You are a madbeast, Grigory, that has been well established. Anybeast who does not believe in Martin the Warrior has to be insane."

"Martin the Warrior is dead!"

"Yes, but he has more sense than you do, and you're alive! Martin the Warrior is the lifeblood, heart, and soul of this Abbey, and no dottering, mindless little pipsqueak of a bankvole is ever going to change that. I will not follow you, and I know I am not alone in saying so."

Mavren turned his head to face the audience, and Grigory, without thinking, did the same. Lilac Blacktip had risen to her footpaws, and now stood a few paces from the platform, her paws crossed in quiet defiance. Bren Sprakenwulf stood at her right, and Mattia the Dart stood at her left, both of them glaring daggers at Brother Grigory. Throughout Cavern Hole, every single Sentinel was standing up in fearless imitation of their leaders; the Squirrel Brothers, Strongpaw, and the lesser Officers moved subtly throughout the crowd, quietly preparing the archers and warriors for a fight.

However, not a single Redwaller stood. Mavren looked from face to dear, beloved face in horror. It was like looking at a bunch of living dead beasts; not a single friend of his, not even the Dibbuns, had any trace of their unique personality on their face. They looked back at him with soulless purple eyes, with a universal expression of meaningless happiness on their faces.

Grigory looked back at him with a glint of triumph in his own purple eyes. "So, it is rebellion you choose."

Suddenly, Grigory's irises contracted as Mavren watched, so much so that his pupils completely disappeared in a sea of disgusting purple. Then, the irises seemed to glow with an unnatural light, and a smile that would be twisted if it hadn't been so graceful appeared on the bankvole's face. The small bankvole's body seemed to ripple and contort, becoming gradually taller, thinner, and more curvy, until he…_it_ did not even look very much like Brother Grigory any more. What had been a bankvole was now a tall, entrancing, beautiful, _horrible_ purple _thing_. It was not fully formed yet, but whatever it was certainly did not belong in Mossflower or in any place whatsoever. When the creature next spoke, it was in a voice that was mutating from its usual indignant squeak, becoming more feminine, more musical and more beautiful.

"Rebellion is punishable by death, hedgehog."

* * *

When the group of five young beasts reached Great Hall, they stopped. Isaac softly inquired about Wren's health, and, after receiving her assurance that everything was all right, he set her down on her footpaws. Matthew, Primrose, Lark, and Lily arrived a few moments later, and made quiet inquiries into what was going on.

Snowflower was staring at the Tapestry, heeding none of the activity behind her. Lily, somewhat worried about her friend, came up behind her and spoke gently into her ear.

"Snow, are you okay? Speak to me."

Matthew came up and, forgetting himself for a moment, almost placed his paw on the hogwife's shoulder, realizing his mistake only just in time to avoid being poked. "Leave her, Lily. She's in a trance. Martin's talking to her."

Snowflower returned to consciousness only a few moments after he finished speaking, and turned to face her friends. "We need to save the Tapestry. Isaac, Quirky, can you move those candlesticks?"

Two large, heavy golden candlesticks stood on each side of the Tapestry. Both candles were lit, as they always were, both to honor the Warrior and to illuminate the Hall at night.

Isaac nodded. "Aye, we can."

Snowflower nodded back to him. "Good. Now, everybeast, here's what I want you to do…"

They listened, even though she was younger than many of them. Martin, in his message, had endowed Snowflower with a hint of his own authority and confidence, which drew their attention without question, just as it had drawn others' attention during his own time as a living Warrior.

After a few spoken words, the group of friends moved quickly into their respective positions. Snowflower turned back toward the Tapestry, and advanced to the wall, where Gale, after her victory in the archery tournament, had left her trusty longbow and her quiver of arrows…

* * *

Mavren backed away from what used to be the Skeptic Brother, drawing the Sword of Martin. Grigory (for lack of a better name to call the thing that was no longer Brother Grigory) somehow managed to snarl at him without seeming insane (although, whether or not the thing looked insane at the moment could never change Mavren's conviction that it was), and jumped at him, armed with a glittering amethyst sword that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

To Grigory's surprise (and, for that matter, to Mavren's surprise), the thing seemed to bounce off the legendary blade, coming to the ground with a painful bump. The hedgehog took the chance to slap at the supposed Abbot with the flat of his sword, reluctant to deliver a killing blow to a member of Redwall Abbey, even if it was a Stu. The blow landed squarely on Grigory's cheek, and the thing clapped a paw to the injured area as if it had been burned. In fact, it had been burned; during the space of a few seconds between when Mavren slapped Grigory and when the thing's paw made contact with his face, Mavren had caught a glimpse of charred, ruined flesh that somehow did not distort Grigory's face at all.

"Darest thou assault the Abbot of Redwall?" The hedgehog whirled around, to find himself facing Badgermum Alba, or what was left of Badgermum Alba. The kind, middle-aged badger he had known had transformed into a youthful, beautiful badgermaid with purple stripes, whose purple eyes blazed in a sick imitation of the Bloodwrath.

"Oh, he darest, and I wantest. In fact, it's long been a fantasy of mine to rip Grigory limb from limb."

Before Mavren could do anything, the large, heavy chair that once belonged to the Abbot hit the transformed Badgermum, sending her flying into the wall. The Sue slid to the floor, knocked completely unconcious.

Bren Sprakenwulf had made a mighty leap onto the platform, where she now stood, her paws akimbo and a crazy, bloodthirsty grin on her face. Behind her, Lilac Blacktip and Mattia the Dart had turned, the former armed with her rapier and the latter with her darts, to face the quickly growing horde of purple Redwallers that were moving to protect their "Abbot." The huge canine took no notice of the crowd's screams, however; her yellow eyes were glistening with an obsessive madness ten times stronger than any badger's Bloodwrath.

"I haven't disemboweled a beast in seasons, Grigory, but in your case, I'm willing to make an exception." And, with that, she pounced toward the thing, claws extended and teeth bared in a savage snarl.

Grigory was on its footpaws in an instant, and its paws fired a bolt of purple light toward the airborne fox-wolf. The energy bolt connected with Sprakenwulf's chest, and sending her flying back among the tables of Cavern Hole. She landed hard, causing an entire table to split in two. For a few moments, she did not get up, obviously in great pain. However, the fox-wolf's insane rage overrode all pain in her mind, and she struggled to get to her footpaws, her yellow eyes blazing.

Lilac slashed and hacked her way to the fox-wolf's side, offering Sprakenwulf support on her shoulder. Her voice and her presence calmed the fox-wolf quickly, in a way that only she, Bren's best friend, was capable of doing. "Easy there, Bren. You'll get him next time. Sentinels!" she yelled to defeat the noise that, to Mavren, seemed to suddenly fill the room. "Retreat! Archers and Scouts, anybeast with bows, cover our backs! Warriors, secure the stairs!"

The Sentinels were engaged in all-out war with the Redwallers, or, at least, the beautiful, purple-colored creatures that had once been Redwallers. What was more, the Sentinels were losing, for many of them were worried about their friends inside the parasites, and were trying to knock out beasts that could only be stopped when they were dead. As a result, many a Sue got their paws on a Sentinel, and the line was weakened by another Sue "recruit." The Officers did their best to discourage the hesitation, but it only got worse as the battle progressed, as Sentinels began to fight former Sentinels and comrades.

Mavren threw himself into the fray, jumping from the platform to strike a Dibbun Sue with the flat of his blade. Once again, the star-metal burned the Sue's flesh, and the unnatural creature went howling out of the room; he was, after all, only a Dibbun. Mavren tried to shake the unpleasant picture of himself injuring a child he had sworn to protect out of his mind, and advanced further into the melee, the Sword of Martin dealing death or injury to every Sue in its path.

* * *

Snowflower stood at the wall opposite the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior, bow in paw. Briefly, the mousemaid surveyed the room, making sure her companions were in their positions. Isaac and Quirky had moved the candlesticks, and stood a good distance away from the Tapestry, looking prepared to run quickly. Matthew and Primrose stood the same way, and looked to her for the signal. Wren, Robin and Gale were at the stairs, keeping watch for any Sues who might come up from the battle taking place in Cavern Hole. Lily, in her delicate condition, was as far away from the stairs as possible, standing by the huge oaken doors at the entrance to Great Hall. With the hogwife was Lark, who was too little to help; Lily kept a paw on the Dibbun's shoulder, preventing her from moving.

Now sure that everybeast was ready, Snowflower nocked an arrow to the bowstring, and drew her paw back to her cheek. She took aim at a strong loop near the edge of the Tapestry, which was holding the massive piece of cloth up. She could see very little in the almost total darkness that had been established when the candles were put out, and her paws were shaking with a fear so total it nearly consumed her. There was no way she could make this shot.

She didn't have to. Just as she was about to give up, a strong, invisible paw wrapped around hers, steadying her and gently aiming the arrow toward the exact spot where it needed to go. _The butterflies are flying in formation…_

_Twang!_

The loop of fabric split, and one side of the Tapestry plummeted toward the ground. The entire weight of the artifact was too much for the other loop of cloth to bear, and, with a magnificent _snap_, the loop broke. The Tapestry hit the ground with a resounding _thud!_

Isaac, Quercus, Matthew, and Primrose acted quickly, running to the fallen Tapestry and, as gently as possible, rolling it up, so that it could be easily carried.

The three eldest Recorder children scampered away from the stairs, yelling at the top of their lungs in fright. "Hurry! They're coming!"

A purple shrewmaid, who only slightly resembled Sister Marianna, whom she used to be, came running up the stairs.

"Darest thou desecrate the Tapestry, ye wretches?" Isaac was the only one who appreciated the irony of that question, since this was one of the very Sues who had discouraged the belief in Martin the Warrior, but even he did not laugh.

Snowflower nocked another arrow, and sent it soaring toward the late Infirmary Keeper, but the arrow seemed to glance off the shrewmaid's purple fur. Isaac prepared to meet the Sue, determined to protect the Tapestry, even if it meant he must sacrifice himself, since he was unarmed and the Sue could "recruit" him.

He needn't have worried. Falcir the Silent had followed the Sue from the stairs. He had had to kill too many of his own warriors to have qualms about killing another Sue, and his broadsword, which was liberally sprinkled with garlic water, cleaved through the creature's neck. The Sue fell dead, and transformed into the bloody remains of Sister Marianna posthumously.

Isaac, and everybeast else, cried out in dismay, but the burly otter shushed them. "Leave her, she was lost. What're you doing here, mates?"

The young badger swallowed hard, and fought through his tears to answer. "We're saving the Tapestry from those monsters."

"Oh, good. Let me give you a paw w'that. Hoi! Ironpaw, Reedflame, get over here and help!"

A sizable young badger and a tough-looking ottermaid came from the stairs, and, with their combined efforts, the three Sentinels, Isaac, and Quirky lifted the massive Tapestry. The Gatehouse residents heaved the oaken doors of Great Hall open, and kept them open while their friends moved the Tapestry out of Great Hall. Robin, Gale, Wren, and Snowflower raced ahead to the Gatehouse, both to open the gates for the Tapestry when it arrived, and to collect the weapons that Matthew had stored in his attic in case of a surprise like this. When they left Redwall, they intended to do so fully armed.

* * *

Mavren the Warrior and Mattia the Dart, along with many archers and several of Mattia's scouts, covered the retreat up the Redwall stairs. What had been Badgermum Alba had regained consciousness within two minutes, and now fought its former friends with a deadly-but-beautiful fury.

Mattia pulled out a dart that had black and red striped fletches, which would put its victim into a heavy sleep, and held it in her paw, prepared to throw it at the nearest possible opportunity. That came soon; in typical Sue fashion, the badgermaid was right out in the open, presenting herself as an easy target.

"I'm sorry, friend," the albino hare muttered, before she hurled the garlic-sprinkled dart at the Sue. It hit the badger squarely in the chest, and, within seconds, the badger Sue was sprawled out on the stairs, forming an effective barrier to the other Sues who wanted access to Great Hall. Or, at least, mildly effective; within two minutes, the Sues were clambering gracefully over the Badgermum's prone form, screaming blue (eh, purple) murder.

Mattia had no choice but to fall back on her last resort. From a new loop on her belt, she retrieved a large flask that ostensibly served the purpose of a water bottle. Uncorking the flask, she doused the nearest ranks of Sues with its contents with a few deft flicks of her wrist.

"Eat garlic, freaks!" The Sues were forced to halt, rubbing at the wet parts of their skin, which were giving off a liberal amount of smoke. The Sentinels made use of this distraction to escape, rushing through Great Hall, not bothering to stop unless they were archers and needed to check if there were Sues to shoot.

Once outside, they wasted no time at the Great Hall doors; it didn't take the uninjured Sues long to realize that there were other ways out of Cavern Hole, and the whole purple army came pooring into the Abbey grounds. The Sentinels raced through the Gatehouse, and, once Mattia and Mavren, who were at the end of the line, made it out of the gates, the Sentinels who were already outside slammed the gates shut.

Strongpaw, by now, was in the throes of a major attack of the Bloodwrath. He had tried to restrain himself until now, knowing full well that the Bloodwrath was uselesss against Sues; however, against normal Mother Nature, the Bloodwrath had better chances. The badger ran to a great oak tree that was growing just on the boundaries of the forest, and, with a mighty heave of his muscles, lifted the giant plant out of the ground. Ironpaw, Isaac, and several younger badgers came to his assistance, and, with their combined effort, they placed the tree in front of the gates, forming a makeshift barricade. It wouldn't hold for long, and, once again, there were other gates out of the Abbey, so the Sentinels had to make an orderly retreat into the woods.

While the badgers were working, the squirrels were forming a task force of their own. There were many squirrels in the Sentinels, in all of the Sentinels' five guilds, but, whether they were warriors, archers, scouts, minstrels, or healers, all of them still possessed a squirrel's natural agility and stealth. They took the Tapestry, and lifted it into the trees, passing it from tree to tree relatively quickly and quietly.

The rest of the Sentinels seemed to melt into the forest, taking the few surviving inhabitants of Redwall with them. When the Sues emerged from Redwall, they saw a forest as empty as if the Sentinels had never been there, and strangely, though they could sense any normal beast within a radius of slightly less than mile, they could only sense a small band of warriors, who had been sent to the south as a decoy. Even that fragile link to the Sentinels' position was soon as dead as the Sues who were sent after the decoy patrol. The green army had moved swiftly, as usual, even the squirrels burdened with the Tapestry. The Redwall Sues could not find them, no matter how hard they tried.

However, the real damage was already done, no matter what had happened to the Sentinels. Redwall, for the first time since the days of Cluny the Scourge, was fully held in the paws of the enemy. Somewhere in Dark Forest, Martin the Warrior wept.

* * *

**Read and Review! Resistance is futile!**

**That came out of nowhere...**


	11. Chapter 10

**Path's Crossing: Eh, yeah. My (ugh, why do they have to be mine?) Sues may never get bored of purple, but, after writing a prologue and ten chapters in which purple is a permanent fixture, I'm getting sick of it myself. And I still have at least twenty more chapters to go...although, six of those are already written. Yay.**

**Adderstar: Kenzie is going to make her first appearance in the next chapter, so hold tight. And, believe me, I hated doing that to the little Dibbun. Poor baby never deserved to be a Sue!**

**Oreramar: I had brainstormed the idea of scientist-Sueslayers, but never came up with any actual research. Thanks for the idea! And, yeah, I hate this part too. Marianna was a good gal; RIP. But, Alba's still breathing! And, about when those two warriors were going to show up again...here they are! ****Oh, and storiewriter mentioned it was your idea to make the Sues turn normal when they die. I did not know that; I kind of reasoned out that part of a Sue's demise by comparing Sues with vampires, since the two are rather similar on several points. Sorry, I didn't mean to plagiarize you or anything. **

**storiewriter: Hm...Sues not being able to wear yellow. That's an idea. Although, Sues are so blind to reason that they might attempt the color combination anyway and claim it's beautiful. Now that would be a laugh...or another reason why Tylenol is useful, whatever works.**

**Okay, I do not own Milfoil. She belongs to Paths Crossing, who has graciously given me permission to use her Redwall alter-ego in the story. Paths Crossing, I made Milfoil a Sentinel; you'll have to tell me if you approve of that characterization. And, to everyone else who has signed up to appear in the story...I am not neglecting you. Don't worry, everyone who has asked to appear will appear.**

**There's no business like show business like no business I know...**

* * *

_**Chapter Ten**_

When the Sue-ified inhabitants returned to Redwall emptypawed, their illustrious leader was, suffice it to say, somewhat less than happy.

"What?" the beautiful voice exclaimed, managing to sound furious without tainting its usually gorgeous and musical tone. "They _disappeared?_ How can they have disappeared? They were weak and battle-worn, pitiful, primitive creatures that they are. They couldn't have gotten more than a mile away within five minutes!"

Albania Constancia Judicia the Judicial, once known as Badgermum Alba, gave a very light cringe. "I'm sorry, milady, but there's simply no better way to explain it. When we pushed the log away from the gates with our combined strength, they were gone. I did send a few of our best fighters after a patrol we sensed to the south, but they managed to slaughter our friends and then disappear themselves, as no doubt you felt."

"I did. It just makes no sense." Neither Sue really stopped to think about whether her own existence made sense, because, of course, it didn't, but no Sue ever really realizes that.

The beautiful purple form that stood by the desk slicked back its headfur with a dainty, yet battle-hardened, perfectly manicured paw, and heaved a charming sigh of frustration. "That Tapestry, when it hung in Great Hall, could be sensed throughout Mossflower and all the way up into the wild regions of the north. Yet, when those accursed Sentinels stole it, it suddenly disappeared into thin air. Why is that, Albania?"

The badgermaid wrinkled her nose in a way that made her look cute and mildly intelligent at the same time. "I haven't a clue, Madame. Perhaps they destroyed it?"

On second thought, "mildly intelligent" could never apply to the mind of the badger-Sue, which was sad, because Badgermum Alba had once been quite clever. But, of course, the word "cute" still worked fine, at least to a Sue's mind.

"Madame" spat with infinite grace. "Pah! Those disgusting creatures reverenced Martin the Warrior too much to destroy their precious Tapestry. They'd rather die than let anything happen to it."

"Pardon me for my deplorable ignorance, your Majesty, but if you hate the Tapestry…" the leader cleared her throat indignantly, apparently able to hear whether a word was capitalized or not, and Albania modified her sentence. "Er…that tapestry…well, if you hate it so much, then why do you want to destroy it?"

"Her Majesty" looked at Albania as if the answer should have been obvious. "I do not _hate_ it, Albania, I simply want to change it."

"Oh!" A lightbulb almost literally lit up above the badgermaid's head. "I get it."

"Good." If a Sue could be curt, "Her Majesty" was that Sue. "And now the Tapestry's been lost, and it is the tool I require to make my plan for Mossflower come true. Until I get it back, this Abbey will not be made of the beautiful amethyst crystal I have envisioned, but just this plain, ugly red sandstone that clashes so dreadfully with my people's fur. I _need _that Tapestry, but where in blazes is it?"

Albania could give no answer but a beautiful shrug.

"Her Majesty" banged her paw on the desk forcefully, but neatly and almost without sound.

"Well, if you cannot find the Tapestry…" she muttered, though her voice was still somehow audible. "Then I will find somebeast who will."

She turned to the north, and closed her eyes in deep concentration.

* * *

Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful awoke gently from a peaceful slumber. She had cried herself to sleep both the night before and the night before that, out of grief for the three warriors whom she had felt die at the hands of the beast they were sent to rescue, but her eyes were not puffy, nor had she been troubled with fitful dreams. In fact, she had had a good dream; the spirits of her warriors had come to her, and assured her that they were happier were they were than they had been in life. Oddly enough, they had returned to the common colors they had been before she transformed them into the beautiful creatures they died as, and, when she asked why their gifts had been taken from them, they looked pityingly at her.

"Was we _dat_ shtoopid, Roquin?" Blossompetal said to Okenstaff.

The male stoat shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, Shemel. Wha'do you tink, Lenra?"

Annarosabella rolled her eyes. "O'course we was."

The weaselmaid sighed. "Is dere 'ope fer 'er?"

"Mebe. That's fer 'er t'decide, dough."

Morganna didn't quite understand their exchange, but she took it to be a good sign. Then, a beautiful female voice she had never heard, but recognized immediately, awoke her.

"Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful, you have done well as my subject so far. Now I must give you a task which will help you fulfill your destiny, and bring peace and prosperity to all my subjects."

The midnight vixen ran gracefully to her beloved's tent, and shook him gently awake. "Airen, Airen, wake up! We have another task to perform in order to share our gifts with the world!"

* * *

Korren and Rano were in the middle of getting ready for another night of fitful sleep when Korren froze, and twitched his head toward the east. The big fieldmouse took a tentative sniff of the air, and immediately began to repack his things.

The harvest mouse groaned. "What've y'got against a good night's sleep?"

"Move, Larkspur. They've taken Redwall."

"What? Nothin' kin take Redwall!"

"Wrong. No _enemy_ kin take Redwall and live t'tell the tale, but Redwall's own creatures already have it. The Abbey's fallen, and it's full o'Sues now. Nothin' we kin do there, so we're goin' ta Salamandastron."

"Right now? I'm tired! We've been movin' since dawn! Kin't we rest awhile?"

"If you want t'get two paws laid on yer shoulders and turn into a sparkly handsome idiot, then sleep all y'want. I'm gettin' outta 'ere."

Rano grumbled, but got up, and proceded to pack his things rapidly for the second time within forty-eight hours. This was going to be a long night, he could tell.

* * *

The Sentinels stopped to rest in one of their summer campsites, an anonymous clearing about two miles west of Redwall. The campsite was secure against most normal attackers, but nobeast could tell how secure it was against Sues, even with a large supply of garlic spray. Therefore, the sensible thing was to assume that no place was truly safe, and to move from campsite to campsite as quickly and quietly as possible. The clearing would be completely deserted by dawn's light the next morning.

Lilac Blacktip surveyed the camp with a grimly clenched jaw. They had lost more than a score of Sentinels, leaving little more than ninety able-bodied beasts altogether. Of course, everybeast was able-bodied, for even the slightest injury from a Sue weapon left the victim lost; with Sues, it was all or nothing. But still, even ninety perfectly healthy beasts was not enough.

"Hey, Leader Lady." Mattia's voice was weary, and Lilac could tell it took some effort for her to maintain a cheerful tone. "The decoy patrol you sent out came back. None dead, none wounded. They took the monsters by surprise."

"Better news than I've received all night."

The albino hare grinned, irrepressible to the last. "But wait, it gets better. Seems that that garlic spray you whipped up for us really works. My scouts haven't seen hide or hair of any Sues; the only warriors they seemed to have sent out are those that followed the decoy patrol. If they were able to sense us, they would have followed us here; as it is, I think we're safe for the moment from prying minds."

"Huh," sniffed Bren, who was sulking in the moonlight-shadow of a large tree, unseen by any who didn't know she was there. "That's a cold comfort. This place stinks to Dark Forest, if you haven't noticed. I don't know how the Hellgates we're going to get that stench out of the Tapestry."

"I know, Bren," Lilac said, "but that's not a big concern. The main thing is, they can't sense us, which might give us a chance to get help."

The officers fell to silence for a while; it seemed that everything there was to discuss had been discussed. It was Mattia who broke the silence once more.

"What do we do now? We can't stay in Mossflower; with Redwall gone, the forest is doomed."

Lilac moved under another tree, sitting down at its base. She leaned up against the wood, and closed her eyes, not to sleep, but to concentrate. "We go west. Falcir knows a tribe of sea otters near the coast; they'll be willing to lend us a boat or two, or perhaps come with us. Then, we sail to Salamandastron; they'll expect us to take the direct route, and so going around the long way might provide us some cover. But for now, we rest."

* * *

The last survivors from Redwall huddled quietly together, hoping that close proximity would make them warmer. Fires were prohibited, to avoid revealing their position to the enemy. Unfortunately, to the Redwallers, who had not had time to pick up extra clothes or change out of their feast garments, security also meant freezing one's tail off in the still-wintery clearing.

Mavren, Matthew, Primrose, Lily, and Lark were slightly more prepared, because they were either adults or completely under the authority of adults, and had had more foresight in dressing for an event where Sues were expected to show. The adolescents, however, had not been able to resist putting on their finery for one more night. Wren was still in the maroon dress that looked so stunning on her, and seemed almost to ripple when she moved. Isaac had on a bright red tunic with a matching cap; Quirky was dressed in a garish green-and-gold outfit, his favorite. Snowflower almost – _almost_ – found their pathetic situation laughable, because they looked so out of place among the well-prepared, well-camoflaged Sentinels.

She _almost _found the situation laughable, because, of course, Snowflower was by no means prepared herself. The fieldmouse-maid was wearing her best dress, a silky, lacy blue thing that had made heads turn in astonishment to gaze at the normally tomboyish archer. One rather handsome travelling warrior mouse had once paid her a compliment when she wore that dress, and she had never forgotten it. However, though she looked attractive, she was shivering in the cold, because she had taken nothing with her except her bow, her dagger, and a small hunting knife, and had not even thought of clothing.

Just then, relief came in the form of a young squirrelmaid with reddish fur, who came toward them bearing a large bundle. "You guys look cold," she said, stating the obvious with a slight hint of sarcasm.

Snowflower recognized her as Milfoil, a youngbeast whom she knew to be an archer trainee, a few seasons younger than her who was wiser than her age suggested. "Yeah," the mousemaid replied, "you could say that." Milfoil smiled slightly, but her heart wasn't in it. Her hazel eyes were tired, like everybeast's were.

"Here, these are some extras we had around camp. You ought to be dressed up warmly."

They all nodded their thanks, and the squirrelmaid gave a solemn little smile as she walked off to attend to other matters. There was enough for everybeast, and then some; Snowflower picked a long-sleeved tunic and some thick leggings, and then found a private grove of trees in which to change. She found that the tunic was sewn with the symbol of the Darkarrow, which was the emblem of the Sentinel archers. So, she had finally joined the Sentinels; funny, she had thought the occasion would have more celebration than this.

She gingerly took the party dress off, and slipped into her new clothing. Instead of leaving the dress behind, however, Snowflower folded it up, and stored it in her haversack. At the very least, she could make bandages out of it.

She did not take off the parcel of Laterose petals she had won in the archery tournament. It was something from home, something which meant far more to her than the dress. The Laterose bush was rumored to be the token of Rose, the sweetheart of Martin the Warrior, whom Redwall had adopted as an unofficial patron. Maidens especially loved the plant, and often spoke to Rose near it, telling her their secrets and asking for her help in manners concerning ill loved ones, or, perhaps, the odd romantic mishap. They believed that she could hear them there, like Martin could hear them next to the Tapestry. Having the petals of Rose's flowers was comforting, like perpetually having the comfort of a mother's hug. Snowflower felt like she needed a friend, and pressed the little pouch to her heart affectionately. _Please, Rose, help us rescue your dear Martin._

The fieldmouse-maid returned to the clearing, laid down near her foster family, and closed her eyes, trying to catch a few elusive winks of sleep. They came more quickly than she suspected, and her dreams were comforting, although, like most dreams, they became a quickly-forgotten blur in the morning.

* * *

**...There's no people like show people like...oh, was I singing this entire chapter? Whoops. Sorry. (By the way, I do not own Annie Get Your Gun or any of its songs. Gosh this is annoying.)**

**Until next time...**


	12. Chapter 11

**Oreramar: Thanks, it's good to know I'm not a criminal. This new chappie should be more than just a transitional chapter. Should be. I'm not that good at battle scenes.**

**Adderstar: "Her Majesty" is the mysterious leader of the Sues, whose identity is going to remain secret for some time. Something tells me King Kel wouldn't like her much, even though they both wish to be called "Majesty."**

**Study in Silence: Don't worry, Grigory is going to die. And yes, purple is very annoying.**

**Kelaiah: Wow...I'm flattered. You really think I'm that good? Sweet! And, yeah, Snowflower and the Sentinels do have rather exotic appearances, but I was actually hoping to play on that later. You'll see. And there's already been a hedgehog champion? Nuts. Figures, the one Redwall book I have absolutely no time to read is the one that I need to keep the story canon, to a point. Oh well, it's just a Sue-story, I guess.**

**storiewriter: Sorry, I didn't really understand what you were getting at there. I thought you meant Sues wouldn't be able to wear yellow without looking bad, but you meant they can't wear it, period. That actually makes sense; I mean, Sues use practically every color in the rainbow except yellow. True, they have all these golden swords and accessories, but never anything that's actually yellow. And gold and yellow are not the same; gold can never be called a dark yellow, really, because it's too sparkly. Hmm...I think you've discovered another research topic!**

**Paths Crossing: I'm good at Sue scenes? Thank you, that makes up for my deficiency in battle scenes. I hate Sue names...there's only so much I can do before my mental dictionary starts running out of properly pompous synonyms. Well, whatever works.**

**Bdeogale Nigripes: That's okay. Transitional scenes can be tedious when one is tired. I understand. This chapter should be better.**

**I do not own Kenzie Farsight. Adderstar of Valorclan has given me permission to use her in this fic. Adderstar, I hope you like the way I portray her. I gave her the basic weapons every Sentinel scout receives, and I made her a bit clumsy. Maybe a bit too clumsy; I don't know, you'll have to tell me.**

* * *

_**Chapter Eleven**_

Morganna and her tribe of Juska were still rather far from Mossflower, which was where they had to go to complete their "mission." When the vixen had the dream that revealed what she had to do, the tribe literally set off immediately, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite having awoken mere seconds beforepaw. It took a while for them to reach their destination, but they made good time; within two days, they reached the outer borders of Mossflower, a journey that would have taken a normal beast two weeks at the least. Mere hours later, they were in the heart of the gigantic forest.

Thanks to the garlic spray Lilac had made, nobeast in the Juskaspringleaf could sense the Sentinels either, but Morganna was not detained by this minor inconvenience. Everybeast knew that the old, cruel world was slowly being cast out of Mossflower, to be replaced by the beautiful, purple, eternal spring that would ensure peace and prosperity. The Sentinels stood for the old world, and so they would be moving toward the west, where the heliotrope cleansing had yet to take place. The western reaches of Mossflower was where she would find her prey. Morganna smiled dazzlingly.

* * *

Rano woke up that morning to find that he was still riding on Korren's back, piggy-back style. Korren had picked him up the night before, so that they could keep moving and Rano could get some sleep after having had none for almost a day. Obviously, his friend had not slept that night, but, as usual, the big fieldmouse showed no sign of fatigue, despite having carried a fully-grown harvest mouse and both of their haversacks for what had to be at least eight hours.

The smaller mouse stretched his neck, and blinked himself into full wakefulness. "All right, Korren, ye kin put me down now. I kin walk."

Korren kept his hooded eyes in front of him, and made no effort to stop. "They're on the move, Rano. We both need t'keep up with them."

"I kin keep up!"

"No ye kin't. They've been goin' double time fer two days. I only barely caught up to 'em carryin' ye like this. We kin't afford t'lose 'em now."

Rano glanced around him; they were, indeed, moving uncommonly fast, unnaturally, even. Although it would have startled most beasts, the small harvest mouse took it all in stride; he had known Korren long enough to know his...for lack of a better word...eccentricities.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't have questions.

"Where are we?"

"Mossflower. We just forded th' River Moss twenty minutes ago. The powderpuffs did the same, only we're two miles west o'them. We're running abreast with 'em now, neck 'n' neck, save for the distance."

Rano was now fully alert. "Wait a minute…ye kin sense 'em? I thought ye said that only worked within one mile."

"It does, but only if I want to sense a full circle. If I focus on a really small space, instead of searching all aroun' me, I kin track 'em about four miles away. It means somebeast comin' up behind me kin sneak up on me, but I don't think we're bein' followed."

"But that means they kin sense us too!"

"Nah, they 'ave no idea where we are, so they kin't focus on us."

The young harvest mouse fell silent for a few moments, and then, a thought occurred to him. "Why didn't ye tell me ye ked do this?"

He couldn't see his companion's face, but, under the hood, Korren grimaced. "I just learned t'do it meself. Few weeks ago. Wasn't quite sure that I'd need t'use it."

"An' that's a reason not t'tell me?"

"Sorry."

"'S'all right, but ye're tellin' me all o'yer secrets as soon as we stop."

"We're not stoppin'."

"What?" Rano gaped. Korren couldn't be serious. "Ye kin't be serious!"

"I am serious. They're movin', sah we need t'keep movin' as well. I have a feelin' that they're goin' ta make some trouble down near Redwall."

"But Redwall's taken! An' anyway, ye need rest!"

"Not as much as ye think."

Rano cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Ye've been carryin' m'fatty tail and all our supplies th'entire night, Korren, and we were runnin' all of yesterday an' the night before yesterday as well. Ye need rest, mate."

The strange fieldmouse kept running, not even glancing back as he answered. "Rano Larkspur, are ye not forgettin' what I am?"

The harvest mouse huffed. "Whatever. At least put me down. Ye kin run faster without m'weight burdening ye."

"Aye, but then I'd leave ye behind. Ye'd never be able t'keep up, an' in this forest…"

Korren glanced briefly up at their surroundings, prompting Rano to look as well. Mossflower had completely transformed; everything was some shade of purple, even the tree leaves. An amythst-colored butterfly, which should have been dead due to the normally cold times of the winter season, tried to float gently past, but splattered violently against Rano's face due to the extreme speed at which Korren was running.

"…Ye'd not last a second."

"Ack! Me eyes!" He was not completely certain whether Rano was complaining about the hideous monstrosity Mossflower had become, or the butterfly guts in his optics, but, whichever it was, Korren agreed with him heartily.

* * *

During the first two days after the conquest of Redwall, the Sentinels had barely stopped to sleep. Lilac wanted to put as much distance between her army and Redwall as possible, and so far, for normal beasts carrying a huge piece of cloth that reeked of garlic, they had made outstandingly good time. Another day and a half of travelling this well, and they would be out of the woods and onto the flatlands, well on their way to the sea.

Danger was never far behind, however. The scouts Mattia had told to keep an eye on their backs reported that the forest was becoming more and more purple as time went on. There was no sign of any Sues, but the advancing Sue-forest was like a burned bridge. The Sentinels could not go back, because there was no longer any friendly green forest to hide in.

There was danger ahead as well. The flatlands were well away from Redwall, but they offered as little camoflauge as the purple forest. There would be no trees for the squirrels to conceal the Tapestry in, and a beast with Sue eyes would be able to see them for many miles. Not to mention, there were many Juska tribes, bandit gangs, and hordes of lizards and reptiles to get through before they reached the sea. But they had to risk it; vermin and reptiles were much more desirable than even the least sparkly of Sues.

The Redwallers, at least, were able to keep up. Though many of them were tenderpaws to the ways of battle and strategic retreat, they knew they could trust the Sentinels' expert decisions, and dutifully obeyed any orders they were given. The transition was made much more easily because of the efforts of Mavren and three youngbeasts, Isaac, Quirky, and Snowflower, who were all either well-trained or well-travelled, if not both. Even now, despite their peril, the three young companions were laughing quietly at some small joke told by Milfoil, Snowflower's archer friend.

_Well, for now, everything is running smoothly,_ Lilac thought, as she marched at the head of her Sentinels under the warm afternoon sun. _No need to worry about the future when the present is bad enough…_

"Lilac! Lilac!" Lilac stopped, letting the Sentinels march past her, and her head jerked toward the beast calling her name. It was a young ratmaid with brown fur, whose frail glasses were bouncing perilously on her nose as she dashed toward her leader. Lilac recognized her to be Kenzie Farsight, one of the newer scout trainees, who had been tasked with watching for Sues following the Sentinels.

"Yes, Kenzie?" Lilac asked, arching a brow as the ratmaid came to an abrupt stop and threw a clumsy salute.

Kenzie took a deep breath. "Sue army spotted, about a mile from where we came. They're coming up quick!"

"Quick" was not necessarily the word Lilac would have used. "Instantaneously" was much more accurate. Kenzie had only just finished her sentence when an impossibly beautiful ottermaid burst out of the woods in a manuver which would seem clumsy, if it had not been performed by a Sue.

"My companions, I have located the miscreants!" A good score and a half more Sues seemed to materialize out of thin air, and dashed heedlessly toward the Sentinels. Beneath their dainty footpaws, which seemed barely to touch the ground as they ran, the dirty, trodden snow which the Sentinels had left behind melted, revealing dormant grass that quickly revived and began to turn purple.

Lilac drew her rapier and ran toward the main body of Sentinels, followed swiftly by Kenzie, who was brandishing a short sword and fumbling slightly with a small, one-paw crossbow, which had only recently been issued to her. "Sentinels! To arms!"

The archers were the first to react. They aimed high above the heads of their comrades-in arms, sending garlic-dipped arrows deep into the ranks of the Sues. A few Sues staggered, and one mouse-Stu fell and died, reciting a long, flowery, tragic monologue as he did so, but the Sues rushed on unfazed. Within seconds, the two lines met in a clash of blood and gore and flowerpetals.

At the back of the Sentinel's ranks, Milfoil stood with Snowflower and her friends. There were too many Sentinels between her and the Sues, so she couldn't risk firing an arrow for fear of hurting her comrades. Instead, she drew a few of the throwing knives she kept on her person, waiting for the nearest Sue to come in range. Isaac and Snowflower followed suit, Isaac holding the broadsword he had, so far, only used in practice, and the mousemaid gripping her unstrung bow like a staff.

"Uh…" Quirky said, his ears and eyes turned to the north. The three other youngbeasts followed his gaze, and gasped.

There stood a beautiful vixen, her gleaming pelt colored like the deepest midnight, her eyes glittering like amethyst crystals. Behind her stood another score and a half of Sues, all beautiful, all purple somehow, and all blatantly hostile without seeming mean. It was a two-prong attack; the Sentinels were fenced in on the east and the north by Sues, on the south by a steadily thickening Sue-forest. The only place they could go was west, and that window was quickly being closed by Morganna's Juska.

"For peace! For prosperity! And most of all, for beauty!"

The midnight vixen's tribe rained down upon the Sentinels, "recruiting" ten beasts before anybeast could react. The green army tried to regroup, but there were too many Sues.

The Squirrel Brothers, seeing the hopelessness of the situation, yelled at the squirrels to pick up the Tapestry and run. A few warriors rushed to stop the Sues from closing the western window, and the squirrels ran west, through the last stretch of normal woods separating them from the flatlands, firing off arrows to prevent the Sues from following them. No Sue who pursued the Tapestry survived; all of them were either cut down by the warriors' broadswords or felled by arrows. However, that was the high point of the battle; the rest of it was bitter defeat.

"RETREAT!!" bellowed Strongpaw, and his cry was taken up by many of the other officers, who also saw that the battle was lost. "BATTLE SITUATION 207!"

It was not an orderly retreat. Two minutes after this order, the Sues surrounded the Sentinels, and even penetrated the Sentinels' ranks, so that it became nearly impossible to tell friend from foe. The Sentinels never meant to scatter, but Sues seemed to pop up everywhere, even in the deepest depths of the group where they had thought no Sue could get their paws on them. Eventually, outnumbered and separated from their comrades and officers, many of the Sentinels, the elite, level-headed warriors who had protected Mossflower for seasons, panicked. They ran in every direction they could to avoid the Sues, heedless of the officers' vain attempts to restore order. Soon, the officers also gave up, and started running themselves, seeking shelter from the camoflauge of the last normal trees as they hoped their trainees and the Redwallers were doing as well.

* * *

Snowflower tried to stay with her friends, but, in the confusion, she lost sight of them, and could not find them again. A weasel-Stu with blue-and-purple-striped fur spotted her, and came running toward her.

"Poor friendless maid! Let me help you!"

The mousemaid squeaked in alarm, and started running toward the northwest. The Stu pursued her, promising his good intentions in vain.

She couldn't run forever, but, apparently, he could; as she started to pant and struggle for every breath, he gained on her, until he was nearly stepping on her footpaws. The mousemaid tripped over a rock, fell, and hit her head against something hard. She had no time to pick herself up before the Stu had knelt by her side.

"There is no need to fear," he said compassionately, "for I have not come to hurt you, but to help you obtain the life you deserve, but have tragically never known. Come with me, you poor lost soul!"

He offered a paw to help her up, but Snowflower spat on it and shrank away from him, her eyes glaring venomously with hatred and fear. His beautiful face twisted in a comely fit of anger and sadness, and he was about to (regretfully of course) take her paw by force, when a voice sounded behind him and distracted his attention.

"Th'lady doesn't want t'go with ye, scumbucket." He turned, to see a mouse standing there, with sword drawn and teeth bared. This mouse was almost literally shrouded in mystery, with his head in a hood and the paws that held his golden sword in gloves.

"Ye fools! Darest thee challenge me, Oriono Despera…"

"Save yer breath, dryrot!" sneered the mystery mouse. "If ye're gonna fight, fight an' git it o'er with!"

The Stu wasted no time in attacking, starting with a mighty hack toward the mouse's head. The mouse spun on his left footpaw to dodge the attack, bringing his sword around to slash at the Stu's side. The unnatural creature gasped, but brought his sword above his head again, thinking to crush the mouse's head. He left his well-muscled chest wide open to an attack, and yet his eyes bulged in senseless surprise when the mouse's golden sword seemed to sprout out of his back.

His heart had been pierced, but still the Stu refused to die. He knelt, gasping and shuddering in a tragic manner. One word came from his lips. "Why?"

The hooded mouse pulled his sword free from the Stu's ribcage. "You tell me," he murmured bitterly, before swinging his blade into, through, and away from the Stu's neck. Even before the severed head hit the ground, the Stu was no longer a Stu, only a headless weasel with nut-brown fur.

The hooded mouse wiped his sword clean in the grass, just as some bushes nearby began to rustle. Another mouse, this one an ugly little harvest mouse with scars crisscrossing his face, came breathlessly into view.

"I told ye ye kedn't keep up," said the hooded mouse, not even looking up at his companion.

"Warn me next time ye dash off, will ye!"

"Sure thing."

The hooded mouse turned toward Snowflower, who had watched the fight and this short exchange without saying a word. "You all right, lass?"

The mousemaid stood shakily on her paws, and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. The world seemed to spin before her eyes. Snowflower tried to fight off the dizziness, but she couldn't, it enveloped her. Everything went black, and the last thing her shocked mind noted before she was completely unconscious was the sensation of being caught by two strong, gentle arms.

* * *

**Okay, the battle went a bit quickly, but this is a Sue attack, after all. Nevertheless, battles are not my strong suit. Oy.**

**Any reviews?**


	13. Chapter 12

**Bdeogale Nigripes: Good, I'm glad you liked it. If you see anything specific which I can improve, don't hesitate to tell me about it so I can make it better.**

**Kelaiah: Dang, you are _perceptive _for one so hyper, and I mean that in the best possible way, trust me. Meesa likes long reviews, though I'm not sure I can answer all of your questions and comments in one author's note...Well, I'm glad you laughed at the funny parts, cheered at the triumphant parts, and hated the characters you were supposed to hate. You're welcome for the beheading; consider it a payment for telling me when Doomwyte was out. I looked and looked, but I couldn't find it, so, I owe you one. Tomorrow I get my yearly Redwall fix! w00t!**

**Oreramar: Heh, would you believe that the flowerpetals and the butterfly guts-thingy were not planned, they just came to me as I wrote them? Living proof that random moments pay off, wot? And yeah, Snowflower's had a rough day, poor baby. (gives Snowy a cookie. "Thanks, Mom!") Good luck with whatever idea my purple theme has given you; I'll make sure to review, whenever it pops up.**

**Adderstar: Glad you liked Kenzie. She's in this next chapter too. And as for Korren...well, you'll have to wait and see. ;)**

**Paths Crossing: Kudos...you came up with exactly two theories about Korren's identity that even _I_ had not thought up. And no, I'm not saying which ones they are. The ottermaid was just supposed to be some random Sue ottermaid...but, now that you've got me actually thinking about her, I've got a pseudo-personality brewing steadily in my brain. Thanks!**

**storiewriter: Yeah, I liked those lines too. They came out of nowhere, but when they did, I was like "sweet! I _have_ to put this in!" Thanks for the link; I've looked at it, and I've already come up with a name for "Her Majesty" besides "Her Majesty," which I will reveal when her identity is revealed. And, you are not the only one who has that theory about Korren, but no spoilers this time; this is just too good.**

**Eh, nothing much happens here, it's just a "everybody's all right" chapter after the battle. If it bores you, trust me, things will pick up.**

* * *

_**Chapter Twelve**_

Battle Situation 207 was a textbook strategy that every Sentinel learned, no matter what guild he or she belonged to. It was a plan made up in the event that the Sentinels had to evacuate Mossflower without any prior warning. Technically, it wasn't even a real plan; basically what it meant was to cut and run, get out of Mossflower fast, and meet up with the rest of the Sentinels at Crow's Head Hill. Crow's Head Hill, or CHH as everybeast in the Sentinels called it for short, was a small peak in the foothills which surrounded Salamandastron, separating the coast from the flatlands. CHH was barely tall enough to merit the name "hill," but it concealed an extensive, abandoned mole burrow that was big enough to hide all of the Sentinels, and it was only a two day journey from the edge of Mossflower if a beast travelled as the crow flies. After four days in this hideout, which was more than enough time for any Sentinel to cross the flatlands between Mossflower and the foothills, the Sentinels would move on to Salamandastron; any stragglers would have to go straight to the Salamander Mountain in order to meet up with the rest.

Needless to say, this was the strategy nobeast expected to use. The Sentinels of Mossflower could not just abandon Mossflower; every one of them, from the mighty to the weak, would give their lives rather than abandon their home. Like one of Lilac's healer trainees had once said, "If the Sentinels ran away from Mossflower, what would we be Sentinels of?"

Three days after the attack, Lilac pondered her student's words as she stared at her meager breakfast. What were her Sentinels, these now homeless creatures who huddled in holes, supposed to guard? From this point, she couldn't see Mossflower – CHH was too short for that – but the new arrivals reported that the friendly green smudge that was once Mossflower had disappeared, to be replaced by a smudge of deep purple. Mossflower was dead, and her Sentinels were left orphans.

That was not to say they had had no triumphs. The Tapestry had arrived safely, shortly before Lilac had. The Sues could not get their sparkly paws on it. Aside from that, the Recorder family had arrived, healthy and together, led by Mattia and her best scouts. Mavren and Lily came on their own, having tracked the Sentinels this far; there was some concern for Lily, who was quickly approaching her due date, but, other than that, the two hedgehogs seemed fine.

Yet, even these small triumphs were overshadowed. The three young Redwallers, Isaac, Quirky, and Snowflower, were still absent. Scouts brought back reports of having seen at least twoscore bodies at the battleground, half of which had belonged to Sentinels, which, of course, gave little indication of just how many Sentinels had actually been lost. There were no injured in the Sentinels' camp, as could be expected after a Sue attack, but there were still precious few, about forty-five at the last count. Even Lilac, who had the most confidence in her troops as a leader could have, feared that the Sentinels had finally come across a problem they could not overcome.

"We're going to make it," came a soft voice over her shoulder, breaking her reverie. Mattia was standing there, her paw on her friend's shoulder, her red eyes soft, but with a serious glint. Lilac faintly wondered how her friend could read her mind.

"Are we, Mattia?"

Another voice came from in front of Lilac, strong and determined. It was Mavren's.

"Yes, we are." The hedgehog had no doubt in his voice, though he knew the gravity of the situation. "We have to. And we will. Martin says so."

Lilac met the Warrior's eyes, and nodded; then, silence was restored.

Not for long. "Somebeast's approaching!" yelled the sentry posted on a taller hill nearby. "Four beasts, two of 'em look like Sentinels!"

* * *

"I don't think I've been so glad to see hills on the horizon my life," panted Quirky, too tired to manage his usual hare-like eloquence.

Isaac nodded, ever so slightly in his exhaustion. "You said it."

Milfoil, the young, red-furred squirrel archer who had befriended them, shook her head in mild annoyance. "You guys have been complaining constantly, non-stop, for the past three days. Don't you ever shut up?"

"Don't blame me!" protested the young badger. "I'm not the one clutching his stomach an hour after breakfast and moaning about starvation."

"I _am_ starving, stripe-butt. You'll be sorry when I waste away before your eyes and flippin' perish of hunger, which ought to be any minute now…"

"Who're you calling stripe-butt, cotton ears!"

"You, mattress bottom. And I'm not taking it back, so _there_."

"Noodle brain!"

"Slime head!"

As the boys continued to throw insults at each other, Milfoil rolled her eyes, wondering if patience would suddenly fall down on her from the heavens and make her day any easier. That, or a suitably heavy comet on top of the quarrelling boy's heads; both situations were equally welcome.

"Are we getting any closer, Kenzie? I don't think I can stand much more of this."

The ratmaid lifted her spectacles from her eyes, letting her farsightedness kick in to its fullness. Sometimes having an eye ailment could be useful.

"Aye, we ought to be there by lunchtime. You hear that, boys? You might actually get lunch if you quit arguing and walk!"

Isaac and Quirky scowled simaltaneously, but became quiet. Briefly.

"Well he started it, wot."

"_I_ started it? You were the one who spoke first!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Was _not!_"

"Were _too!_"

"SHUT UP!!"

Milfoil and Kenzie had managed to yell simaltaneously, a fact that surprised them as well as Isaac and Quirky. The four young beasts stared at each other for a few moments, and then Milfoil began to laugh hysterically at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Kenzie rolled her eyes, but it was obvious that she was holding back helpless giggles as well. "Thank you," she muttered, and then she started walking again in the direction of CHH, followed shortly by the others.

The two girls were a few pawsteps ahead, so Isaac and Quirky could converse quietly without being heard. A few moments after being told to shut up, the hare leaned suavely toward his friend and disobeyed the order in a hoarse whisper.

"Was not."

"Were too."

* * *

The four refugees were greeted with hugs, pawshakes, and, best of all, food. Quirky took immediate advantage of this last option, sitting down with his meager lunch of berries and herbs and bolting it down in two seconds. Then, he looked morosely at Snaggletooth, the old rat who served as the Sentinels' cook.

"I say, sir," he said, trying to be as charmingly miserable as possible, "have you just a little bit more for a poor, starving hare who's had nothing to eat for three days?"

Snaggletooth cocked an eyebrow at him, and prodded his stomach gently with his ladle. "Seems t'me like ya can afford t'lose the weight, young'un."

Quirky's ears drooped. "But I'm hungry!"

"So's everybeast else! Take a nap and forget it for awhile. Ya can do that, y'know."

The young hare grumbled, but he was tired too, so he followed Snaggletooth's advice. Milfoil and Kenzie were one step ahead of him, slumbering gently in the corridor of the burrow, since there were not enough bedrooms for everybeast.

Isaac, however, still needed to catch up with his friends, and he took a few moments to converse with Wren near the entrance of the burrow. "So, Wren, where's Snowflower? Do you know?"

The dainty mousemaid shook her head, her brow furrowed with worry. "No, I thought she was with you."

"She was, but we all got separated. It took me over an hour to find Quirky, Milfoil, and Kenzie, and I couldn't see her anywhere. I thought she had followed you."

Wren bit her lip, struggling to keep her tears in check, and gazed out toward the flatlands with watery eyes. If Snowflower did not come by the evening of the next day, they would have to leave without her. She wasn't sure what option seemed worse, leaving without her sister, or wondering what had happened that had caused Snowflower's delay.

"Oh, Isaac," she said, her voice cracking, "I hope she's all right."

* * *

Snowflower regained consciousness a few hours after the attack. She found herself to be lying down in a dark chamber, on a bed of dead grass. It wasn't purple. That had to be a good sign.

Her head throbbed painfully, and, when she tried to sit up, the world seemed to spin, like it had when she had blacked out before. With a small cry, she put a paw to her forehead, to feel a lump that, in all fairness, _had_ to be smaller than it seemed, but seemed to be the size of a chicken's egg. She groaned in pain, but still she tried to get up.

Strong paws clutched her shoulders, and gently pushed her back down. "Lie down, lass. Ye're not well."

_No kidding. Any other urgent news, genius?_ the mousemaid thought. What she said out loud was barely a whisper, and certainly less sarcastic. "Where am I?"

The soft voice shushed her soothingly. "With friends. Rest now."

She wanted to argue, to walk out and find her friends, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, all thoughts of resistance subsided. Almost instantly, she fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Eh, about Snaggletooth. He's one of the more elusive characters around the SoM, since he's not role-played by anyone specific, but just used freely when needed. So, I don't really see him much, and kinda got the impression that he is female (when I reread that, it just sounds so wrong). He is a guy, not a girl, like I said in the last chapter he appeared in. I'm going to be fixing that mistake quickly. I still don't own him, by the by.**

**Reviews are chicken soup for the unpaid, overworked fanfic writer's soul. And I've got a cold. Chicken soup please?**


	14. Chapter 13

**And, I'm back! Did you miss me, since I haven't updated in the long period of two days? Yes, I'm excited; there's a Halloween dance tomorrow, and I need something to dilute my caffeine-resembling nervousness at the moment. So, I'm updating early. Weee! This is fun...and thanks for the chicken soup! Now I can dance without sniffling all the time! :)**

**storiewriter: As you have requested, I have reviewed the latest two chapters in Redmont. I know they're impossibly short; I like long reviews, but, unfortunately, I seem incapable of writing them unless miraculously inspired. Sorry. And, the whole SoM thing was meant to be angsty; of course the Sentinels are going to come back and kick some feathery Sue tails, but, you have to admit, losing Redwall would send even the least angst-inclined beast into angst. On a more cheerful note, Salamandastron is coming up, and I've got some nice, plump, juicy Sues, ripe for the picking. You have my permission to laugh evilly.**

**Lilac: Thanks so much for reviewing; I haven't seen you here in a while, and I was beginning to wonder if I had romanticized your characters a bit too much. I've always liked watching Lilac and Mattia interact; friendships like that are few and far between, especially in real life. I'm glad to know I portrayed that relationship accurately.**

**Paths Crossing: Aye, Isaac and Quirky are enough to drive the sanest beast insane. Thank my random moments for the comet and patience line; they deserve all the credit. And thank you, I am feeling much better.**

**Kelaiah: ((glares at Isaac, Quirky, and Rano.) What have I told you about entering other writer's reviews without permission? (They hang their heads.) "Not t'do." That's right. Now, off to bed with you, without supper. Honestly, why can't you be good like Snowflower and Korren? (Snowy and Korren look innocent...too innocent.)) Anyway...this might land me in an angry mob situation, seeing as we have some dedicated Star Wars aficionados out there (coughOreramarcoughstoriewritercough), but _I_ happen to like Jar Jar Binks. He's just one of those characters who's so annoying, he's lovable. As for your other questions and observations: yes, you can call me Nonny; Rano's ugliness is mostly because of the scars; Snaggletooth's more dangerous than he appears to be. And, that's it...for now, I suppose.**

**Oreramar: I thought farsighted people saw normally at a distance, and that up close was blurry. I know I have a relative whose farsighted in one eye, and nearsighted in the other, and he often uses his farsighted eye to aim when he's golfing. But, I'm not farsighted myself, so I really have no idea what it's like. I guess I was just looking for a way to introduce Kenzie's farsightedness; thank you for the correction. Thanks for the review, as well! I love reviews!**

**Adderstar: Yeah, things are bad...but they're going to start looking up. Sooner or later...in the meantime, hug yourself. I'm sure both you and Kenzie need it. I know I need it, and I'm the one writing this!**

**Now, at long, _long_, last, the actual story:**

* * *

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

Due to the arrival of their unexpected visitor, the two warrior mice from the north halted their pursuit of the Juska Sues to make camp for the first time in days. Rano found a little cave, which was concealed in a small ravine near the edge of the forest. Of course, there were the usual jokes about becoming moles, since it seemed that the only places they could sleep comfortably were dark, dank holes in the ground; yet, the campsite had not yet been touched by the Sue-spell that was overtaking the forest, and it was comfortable, since it was sufficiently hidden and adequately vented to allow a small fire.

The fire was the best thing so far, for it kept the mousemaid warm. Rano had been concerned for her at first, but she seemed to be recovering nicely. There was a nasty bump on her head, but there were no signs of an infection. Right now, she slumbered near the fire, not stirring once under Rano's watchful eyes.

"Larkspur?" Rano looked up at the cave entrance. Korren had come back from whatever errand he had been on; evidently it had been gathering, since he held a few bunches of edible, cold-resistant roots in a make-shift basket he made with his cloak. Rano nodded to acknowledge his arrival.

The hooded mouse ventured into the cave, and set his burden down. Straightening himself, he inclined his head toward the sleeping mousemaid. "She wake up yet?"

"Nay. I think th'sleep's doin' 'er good, though."

"That's good." Korren approached the mousemaid, and knelt near her, like he had many times in the past night and morning.

Rano had never seen Korren take care of a beast with such feverish enthusiasm before. The fieldmouse was practically beside himself over this strange mousemaid; he personally "made" her bed of leaves and grass, checked her temperature and pulse even though she showed no signs of being sick, dead, or anything but exhausted, and constantly looked at her, just to make sure she was all right. He even neglected his own health to care for her; whenever he reached the point that he had attended to all her needs for the time being, instead of eating or sleeping, he went out, ostensibly to scout for "powderpuffs" or search for food. When he came back, he immediately went to her side again. It was getting to the point that the harvest mouse was beginning to worry.

Korren was now laying a paw on her forehead, although, as usual, it was unnecessary; the mousemaid was not ill and had no fever. Rano cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Then, Korren started acting more strangely than he ever had before. His paw remained on her face longer than was necessary, and then moved, so that Korren was tenderly caressing her right cheek with the backsides of two claws. Rano frowned, but still kept his mouth shut. The fieldmouse got to his footpaws, and came toward the fire, but his gaze lingered on the mousemaid, as if he couldn't bear to tear his eyes away from her.

That was it. "Beginning" no longer cut it; Rano was officially and completely worried.

"What're ye doin', Greeneyes?" he asked, using his comrade's last name in the no-nonsense tone Korren usually reserved for him.

Korren ignored him. "She's beautiful, isn't she Rano?" he said, gently and warmly. Oddly, his Borderland accent had completely disappeared.

"That does not concern ye."

"Yes, beautiful. Her grace defies that of the most delicate butterfly, and her golden fur glistens like a thousand suns gleaming in the heavens."

Rano threw a doubtful glance at the mousemaid; she was indeed pretty (not beautiful, pretty) on a good day, but this was not a good day. Her fur, which, granted, _was_ blonde in color, was far from "glistening." It was dirty and oily; she hadn't bathed in days. He could see she was tall (taller than Rano, anyway) and slender, with the long, lanky limbs and the strong, lean muscles of an accomplished athlete, but tall beasts were often more clumsy than graceful. However, whether she bore her long form with grace or not could only be seen when she was conscious, and Korren had yet to meet her while she was fully awake. If it had been possible, Rano would have frowned even more; as it was, he got up, and moved slowly, cautiously toward his companion.

The red-furred mouse did not notice his friend's distress, but merely continued babbling. "The mark on her face makes her even more beautiful; it looks like an eidelweiss blossom, happily blooming in the spring."

"Korren, what the Hellgates is 'eidelweiss?' I've ne'er heard o'such a flower."

"Those soft, beautiful blue eyes, so light and merry, are yet deeper than the ocean's mighty depths. A beast could drown in them if he looked too long."

"_Korren_," Rano's voice was pitched to a deadly two-tone singsong as he said his companion's name, "what's with the poetry? Ye hated learnin' poetry as a bairn."

"That was before I met _her_. She _is_ poetry, beautiful, beautiful poetry. I could write verses about her all day and never come close to describing her."

The harvest mouse had, by now, come very close to his companion. He reached out, and grabbed Korren's hood, yanking it off to reveal the fieldmouse's carrot-red fur.

Or, at least, it _used_ to be carrot-red. Now it was a bright, vibrant, flaming color that hurt Rano's eyes to look at.

Korren seemed not to notice his hood was missing, even though he was usually near-neurotic about hiding his handsome features. Instead, he just turned his face toward his comrade, who had time to notice, with dismay, that Korren's handsome features had become even handsomer since the last time he had removed his hood. His eyes had even changed; there were no pupils, only irises, which glittered and sparkled like two fiery twin emeralds.

"Rano," the fieldmouse said, his face unnaturally soft and blissful, when he was normally extremely serious on one of their hunts, "I think I'm in love."

Rano did what he had learned to be the only sensible thing a mouse could do in this situation.

_Smack!_

Korren clutched the left side of his face, which had, two seconds before, violently connected with the underside of Rano's right paw. Both mice seemed to hesitate for a moment, holding their breath…and then the flames faded from Korren's red fur, leaving it carrot-colored as it usually was. When the fieldmouse looked back up at his friend, his eyes had lightened to their usual muddy green, and his pupils had reappeared.

"I…I'm sorry, Rano. I don't know what came o'er me."

"Huh," the harvest mouse huffed, "yes ye do." The crisis was now averted, so he reclaimed his seat, staring solemnly at his friend. "Y'know ye kin't do this, Greeneyes. Don't ye understand what kin happen…nay, what _will_ happen to a maid ye connect yerself to?"

"I know that, _Larkspur_. Ye don't 'ave t'remind me," Korren said, a sulky, Dibbun-ish tone creaping into his voice. Thankfully, his accent had returned, and he was using it in full force.

"Obv'ously I do, though I shouldn't have to. Ye saw what 'appened to yer father, didn't ye?"

"This's different, Rano. I'm not m'mother, and _she's_ not Da. Maybe…maybe she's like me, y'know? Not completely…well, powderpuffy…but not completely normal either. She has a strange mark on her head..."

"Which occurred nat'rally. Mice're born with spots on 'em all th'time, Korren, she was just born with five on 'er face."

"I know, but still…"

"Korren…" Rano closed his eyes briefly, massaged his temples, then looked at his companion again. "Ye didn't notice this, because ye're wearing gloves and she has a lot'f other smells on her besides, but she's almost bathed in garlic. Not t'mention, did ye see the necklace she's wearin'?"

"The little white pouch with the rose on it?"

"Smell it."

The fieldmouse gave his friend a strange look, but Rano was completely serious. Korren sighed, and approached the unconscious mousemaid once more. Careful, even now, not to wake her, he gently picked up the pendant with his gloved paws, and took a sniff.

"Gah!" he shouted, dropping the pendant and clutching his nostrils, which suddenly felt as if they had been burned. Korren drew his paw away from his nose, and saw, to his horror, that it was bleeding slightly. Miraculously, the mousemaid did not awake at the commotion he made, or even stir, but slept on, silent as a dead beast.

Rano nodded grimly. "Y'see? A mere whiff o'the stuff hurts ye. If she were…not completely normal, would she be able t'wear it every day?"

Korren returned to his seat, and clenched his eyelids shut, in emotional pain as well as physical. He sat there for more than a few minutes, applying pressure to his wounded nose and moving not a muscle. Once the bleeding had stopped, he looked up, not bothering to conceal the sadness and fear on his face or in his voice.

"What am I t'do now, Rano?"

Rano shrugged. "I'm sorry, Korren, I really am, but I think y'need ta avoid 'er as much as possible. It's just a crush; it'll go away."

The fieldmouse shook his head, and his ears drooped so low that their edges sank well beneath his broad shoulders. "I don't think it will."

"Ye've not really met her yet, ye've only seen her. It's just a crush, not love at first sight. Once she wakes up an' turns out t'be…well, normal, you'll get o'er it."

This earned a bitter laugh. "'Love at first sight' is comm'nplace fer powderpuffs, Rano. For all we know, I'm head o'er heels fer her, and there's nothin' I kin do about it."

Rano sighed, his ears drooping almost as much as Korren's were, purely out of sympathy for his friend. "It'd still be best for her if ye stayed away."

Korren clenched his jaw, but nodded. Then, he sat up straight, and replaced the hood on his head, a look of fierce determination in his eyes.

"G'night, Rano," he muttered, walking to the bed he had made for himself and lying down upon it. Finally, he was sleeping; Rano only wished it could have been under better circumstances.

He shook his head, and laid down on his own bed, but sleep refused to come for him. The crisis was avoided, yes, but that didn't mean they wouldn't run into it again, and that thought alone was enough to make him an insomniac. He huffed in frustration, and turned over. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Huh, if _that_ doesn't give you at least the gist of what Korren is, I don't know what will. **

**I know that Brian Jacques used the name Greeneyes for Tsarmina's father, but "Korren Greeneyes" has such a ring to it that I don't want to change it. Just so I don't get a lot of scathing remarks about that in reviews...**

**...of which there will be many, right?**


	15. Chapter 14

**Study in Silence: Yeah, it is pretty creepy, isn't it? Blech. Although, you have to admit, Korren is pretty nice for Suespawn.**

**Kelaiah: Yes, you were right. Have a cookie! :) You're welcome for the answers, and I'm glad you like the "powderpuff" name. Just fits so well, no?**

**storiewriter: Oh, whew, I'm glad you like Jar Jar. I've been deemed weird by some I know because I don't absolutely hate him -- but weird is good, right? Right. Thanks for the virtual cookies...except the garlic one, that was gross. And disgusting. Jar Jar rules!**

**Oreramar: Yeah, you're about right. The Sue clan idea sounds marvelous; maybe opposite colors could have extreme rivalries, like, say, Amethyst Clan and Topaz clan, since purple is opposite the color wheel from yellow, like storiewriter was saying. I so cannot wait to read that, honestly. And...there are people who hate Ewoks? You're kidding! They were, like, the best part of Episode Six, not to mention the cutest! My gosh, the world as we know it is going down that toilet...**

**Paths Crossing: Well, I think it's a good thing that Korren's pretty sane, for a renegade Stu anyway. I DO NOT want to see that therapy session...**

**Sorry, the troupe of Sentinels and Redwallers is not in this chapter. Basically, at this time, all they're doing is waiting anyway, and that's would be a boring chapter. They'll be there next time. Besides, this little romance is kinda cute...in a creepy kind of way.**

* * *

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

When Snowflower opened her eyes again, she felt much better. There was no headache, nor was there any dizziness when she got up. She was, however, ravenously hungry, which made her wonder just how long she had been unconscious.

"G'mornin', lass. Glad t'see ye're all right."

She narrowed her eyes at the figure who sat near the opposite wall of the cave (_Oh, so I'm in a cave. Interesting)_, trying to make out his features in the dim light. It was the harvest mouse she had seen shortly before she blacked out; the other mouse, the one with the hood, was nowhere in sight. Tentatively, she ventured a reply.

"Good morning."

The mouse's scarred face crinkled a bit in a small smile. He rummaged about in his haversack for a while, taking out an oatcake, which he offered to her. "Ye must be hungry. Ye've been out fer quite a while. 'Ere, take it."

She grasped it gingerly with her claws, suddenly noticing that the paw he was using to give the cake to her had only three digits. Gulping slightly, she averted her eyes, and tore into the cake, too hungry to remember her manners. He said nothing.

As she chewed, she stole glances at him every now and then, trying not to let him see her do it, since she knew it was impolite. She couldn't help it; his appearance held a weird fascination for her, as she could not tell exactly how he had got the the scars on his face. They were, in a word, huge, resembling large, discolored welts from a recent beating with a large bullsnake whip. Only, they couldn't be welts, because even large welts would have faded over time, to become smaller scars that weren't as prominent as the ones this mouse possessed. These scars were grotesque to look at, and severely disfigured his face, making him look like he had large, parasitic pink worms feeding on him constantly. But for that, he _might_ have been handsome, although the scarring was too extensive for Snowflower to really be able to tell.

A few minutes later, having completely demolished the cake, Snowflower began to feel restless. She gazed cautiously at the strange mouse, trying not to look like she was staring at him, and briefly considered whether or not to talk to him.

Yet, it was he who spoke first. "Ye were out for...lessee..." He briefly counted on the claws he had left. "Two nights an' a day. Ye hit yer head…don't touch it, lass, ye'll make it worse…and Korren said ye seemed pretty tired when he saw ye, sah ye prob'ly needed th'sleep."

Snowflower nodded. She knew she had been running on pure adrenaline since she had fled Redwall. She hadn't slept much and had barely eaten while she was journeying with the Sentinels. Tired…that was a grave understatement for her advanced state of exhaustion.

A few moments passed, in which neither said nothing because there was nothing more to say on that subject. Then, Snowflower initiated another topic. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners. I'm Snowflower. What's your name?"

"Rano Larkspur."

"Thank you for helping me, Mr. Larkspur."

"No," the little harvest mouse laughed softly, "just call me Rano. Mista Larkspur makes me sound like some dingy ol' fogey 'oo studies books all day long."

"All right," she said, giggling a little bit, " I can understand that."

He chuckled a few more times, and said no more. A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between them, and then Snowflower spoke up again.

"So, this 'Korren' fellow…is he your friend? That mouse with the hood?"

Rano's expression was strictly neutral. "Aye, that 'e is."

"Where is he?"

"Scoutin'. 'E wants t'figure out where ye came from, so we kin git ye home."

"Oh, he needn't bother." This time, she was the one who maintained a carefully neutral expression, in an effort to avoid crying. "I'm from Redwall, and…"

"Redwall's been taken by th'powderpuffs?" She looked up in astonishment. The conquest of Redwall had occurred less than a week before, and they were a great distance from the Abbey now…there was no way news could travel that fast.

"How did you…"

"We 'ave our ways." Her eyes narrowed, and she stared at him, making no attempt to mask her suspicions. He stared right back at her, with a somewhat bemused expression on his face. Then, he laughed again. "Relax, lass. M'friend an' I are just really good scouts. From the look on yer face, ye'd think we were powderpuffs."

"…You mean Sues, er, Stus."

"What?"

"Sues and Stus. Those're the technical names for them."

"'Powderpuffs' describes 'em better, an' insults 'em too. Ye kin't get a better name fer 'em than that."

"…Well, suit yourself, I suppose."

The harvest mouse smiled at that, and began to clean up the ashes from the previous night's fire. Snowflower was still a bit at a loss for what to do, so she stood up and looked around. The cave was nothing more than an ordinary cave, save for the fact that the entrance was well concealed by plant life. The plants were dormant, and there was snow on the ground outside; that probably meant they were safe for the moment.

Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw her haversack, her knives, and, most importantly, her bow, set gently against one wall of the cave, near the entrance; she had brought them with her when she ran from the battle, having had no time to cast them off in preparation for the fight. Wordlessly, she hurried to them, suddenly worried about her baby. These two mice had not struck her as bowbeasts, and she knew that warriors could sometimes be rougher than they intended; hopefully, they had treated her bow gently.

The mousemaid ran her paws over her trusted weapon, and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no cracks at all in the wood; everything, even down to the varnish that kept the wood from splitting in the winter cold, was perfectly intact. In fact, to her surprise, it looked a bit better than it had when she looked at it last; somebeast had redone the varnish, which she had been meaning to do, but hadn't had the time.

"Pretty bow ye have there."

She started at Rano's voice, which jerked her quite suddenly out of her reverie. "Aye, it is," she said, turning her eyes back to her baby.

"Who made it?" The harvest mouse was staring at her, only mildly interested; he was as bored as she was, evidently.

"I did."

"Really? No kiddin'. 'Ow'd ye manage t'dye those flowers inta th'wood?"

" Patience." The whole process was rather complicated, and she didn't think she could explain it at the moment.

"Oh, neat." Either he was oblivious to the small joke she had made, or he hadn't been paying full attention. Snowflower judged it was the latter, since his mind was partially occupied by shaking the dust out of his grass "bed." In fact, Rano was conscientiously cleaning up the entire cave. He almost seemed like a fussy old mousewife, the way he bustled about; she almost laughed, but she knew it would insult him. She watched him quietly for a few moments, and then, after some consideration, quietly ventured a question that was now nagging her mind.

"Did you re-varnish this, while I was asleep?" It certainly seemed logical; Rano looked as if he were one of those beasts that thought of everything.

"That's interestin', lass. How far can ye shoot an' arrer with that thing?"

Snowflower gave a confused little frown, and then it dawned on her. He wasn't listening; he thought she was still expounding on the virtues of her bow. She shook her head, and allowed herself a small smile; she could probably get to like this Rano Larkspur, however long she knew him.

* * *

Korren had headed out early that morning, before Rano woke up. He needed to get away from the mousemaid, so that he could clear his head of all overly romantic tendencies and be able to think objectively again. He couldn't lead Rano…and _her_…to Salamandastron in this state of mind, because he wouldn't be able to travel one step without begging to carry her, to protect her little footpaws from getting blisters.

At that thought, the rational side of himself chuckled. The mousemaid could probably do a lot of walking and not even care about blisters, judging from her obviously athletic mucles and the calluses which seemed to cover all four of her paws. Besides, her footpaws weren't even close to small; they had to be long, to be able to keep her tall form properly in balance. If he continued thinking of her like that, he would lose his grip on reality completely, and that was one thing he couldn't afford to lose. He definitely needed this walk.

He chose to go east a bit, like he had for walks on several days prior, to check on their position and make sure it was safe. About a half-hour into his walk, he stopped short. The snow under his footpaws was melting steadily, and, a few yards ahead, it was completely eliminated. The Sue-spring was coming, but that was no surprise; he had been expecting it for some time, and was actually a bit shocked that it hadn't come sooner. Evidently, it was moving slowly, since it was getting further away from Redwall's domain. At least it had left them enough time to move out.

When he did return to the camp, fifteen minutes later (he had, of course, walked considerably faster on his way back), Korren halted in his tracks. The mousemaid was awake, and sat near the cave's entrance, examining her longbow. He had prepared himself to look at her while she was unconscious, but now, she was awake, and he couldn't take his eyes off her, no matter how many times his rational mind slapped his romantic side in the face. He hid behind a tree, and made himself be very quiet, while he collected himself.

She was talking to Rano, who had asked about her bow. Korren admitted to himself that she had a rather pretty voice; the description that immediately came to mind was "beautiful, shining, glorious voice that sounded like a thousand jubilant birds," but he viciously bit his lip and made himself stop at "pretty." He didn't let himself dwell on it much more than that; down that route was madness.

There was something he liked in the quiet attention she gave to the longbow, almost as if she was caring for her child. She seemed to know it by heart, since she recognized the smallest things that were different about it. Including the fact that it had been revarnished.

It was an accident, really – or, at least, that was what he told himself, and would tell his companion if asked. Rano had dropped her haversack when they came to the cave; the little jar of glaze had fallen out, and Korren noticed it and guessed its purpose. Korren had also observed that _her_ bow was a bit scratched up, and, during one of his walks away from the cave, he had refinished the bow, wanting it to look good for _her_ when _she_ awoke. Rano had no idea he had done it, and he hadn't even seen anything different about the bow, one-track minded as he was about swords and such. But she…

Her eyes lit up; she had noticed. She asked Rano if he had taken care of her bow. He said something nonsensical in reply, completely clueless, but Korren could see the appreciation in her eyes. There was a strange, exultant pressure in his chest when he realized he had done something that deserved her gratitude; he tried to think it away, but it stayed, obstinate as a stone.

That was when she smiled. His heart fluttered overpoweringly. He had never seen her smile before. It was only a small smile, but it brightened her face from the case of early morning stares she had had before, and there was a mischievous glint in her light blue eyes that he simply couldn't look away from. It wasn't dazzling, or glittery, or anything but normal, and, to tell the truth, his romantic side _was_ a bit disappointed…but, it seemed to fit her perfectly, and even his rational mind had to admit that.

"Sah, lass, if ye kin't go back ta Redwall, where are ye headed?" Korren silently thanked Rano for changing the subject…he didn't know if he could handle much more of this battle with himself.

The mousemaid looked to answer Rano, her brow slightly furrowed as she spoke. "Uh…well, I _was_ going to Salamandastron, with my friends...my friends!" Her eyes widened in sudden realization, and she began to pack her things rapidly. "I've got to find them! They must be so worried!"

That was his cue to enter, ready or not.

* * *

Snowflower suddenly found herself to be two inches away from hitting her nose against the broad chest of the hooded mouse she had seen before…Korren, his name was. He had appeared quite suddenly in the cave entrance, placing himself on a collision course with her. She stopped dead, swayed clumsily on her footpaws as her body protested the sudden halt, and inclined her head upwards – he towered over her by nearly a head's length – to look him in the…well, face, since she couldn't see his eyes. She couldn't see his face either, but that was beside the point.

They stared stupidly at each other for a long time…or, at least, it seemed like a long time, but, in reality, it was only a few seconds which, unbeknownst to her, were unbelieveably tense for Rano. Snowflower had the uncomfortable feeling she was being studied, and swallowed heavily.

_Is he trying to intimidate me or something? Trying to keep me from leaving? Because if he is,_ she thought, stubbornly gritting her teeth, _it's not going to work. _

Then, the hooded mouse cleared his throat.

"Yer friends are gone." After that ominous little declaration, he said nothing, simply went back to staring.

_This mouse is…odd, to say the least._

Snowflower could barely keep the panic out of her voice. "Gone? You don't mean…"

"No, no," he said, quickly realizing his mistake. "They've moved on, t'get away from th'powderpuffs. We'd best be gone as well," he continued, advancing further into the cave, "we have to keep movin'. The spring is comin' a mile o'er yonder." Here he jerked a paw eastward.

"But my friends…"

"If they're smart, they're headin' to Salamandastron. That's where everybeast's goin'. Rano, pack up. We're leavin'."

* * *

Half an hour later, they were headed southwest. Korren marched several steps ahead of them, silent as the grave. Snowflower turned to Rano, hoping for an explanation about the bigger mouse's strange behavior, but the little harvest mouse said nothing.

_Great. Redwall's fallen, my friends have disappeared, and I'm travelling with a couple of mutes, one of whom just might be crazy. Can this day get any worse?_

Thunder rumbled above their heads, and Snowflower looked up to see angry (yet bountiful) purple clouds floating above them toward the sea. Evidently the first shower of the "spring" was coming in.

_You just _had _to ask, didn't you Snow?_

…_Wait a minute, don't clouds usually come east, away from the sea?_

Her thoughts were evidently shared by the young harvest mouse beside her, who stopped and looked upward to examine the clouds. "Oy, Korren! Whadda ye make o'this?"

The bigger mouse halted for a moment, and, without turning toward them, looked directly up at the sky. His voice, when it reached her ears, was a rich tenor, a far cry from the low growl he had used when speaking to her in the caves. "The clouds're comin' from Redwall. 'Ooever's in there's got mastery o'er the weather."

"D'ye think it'll 'ave any effect on th'land?"

"Rano Larkspur, that's a stupid question if e'er I heard one." And then, without once turning to look at his companions, the hooded mouse started off again, silent as before.

If that last statement had been directed towards her, Snowflower would have felt affronted, perhaps sufficiently so to become violently argumentative. Rano, however, merely rolled his eyes, and turned to her with a wry smile.

"We're t'take that as a 'yes,' lass." The mousemaid cocked an eyebrow at him, but, before she could respond, the harvest mouse had started walking again, compelling her to do the same.

To say she was utterly confused as to what to do with her emotions was to make the understatement of the century. Half of her mind wanted to huff in frustration at the strange mouse's extremely rude behavior toward her; the other half was undeniably curious about _why_ the heck he was so rude, especially when he had been courteous enough to come to her rescue only a few days beforepaw.

She settled for the huff. _Rudeness is as rudeness does,_ she thought, _and what his rudeness has done is lose him my good opinion. His loss, not mine._

The mousemaid glared at Korren's back, the only thing she could see of him. _And besides, this whole "mysterious cloaked rescuer" routine is really starting to get old._


	16. Chapter 15

**Bdeogale Nigripes: Cool! You have a good author's intuition then. Hopefully I'll develop one.**

**storiewriter: No problem. I completely understand not being able to hiss at that sort of thing, especially when everyone else is trying to sleep. You're welcome for the last update, and for this one as well (mail call!).**

**Oreramar: I took a look at your review, and finally figured out what my next few chapters were lacking: a purpose for the Sue rains. Got that right here.**

**Kelaiah: ((R., I., and Q. look at K. in disgust.) "Why could you get into Kelaiah's reviews and not get yelled at like we did?" "...Because I'm _special."_ (R., I., and Q. look at each other, then jump on him and drag him off to the nearest bathroom to get a swirly.) BOYS! PLAY NICE! "Yes, Mom." Ugh, kids these days...) Anyway...thanks for the feedback, it's good to know I'm doing well...and when one of my comments could be interpreted as potentially dangerous.**

**About that. To anyone who's reading this, especially the kids...I am _not_ trying to imply that Korren's obsession for Snowflower is a healthy relationship. I just called the romance cute because I know the future they're going to have, not realizing that, at the time, Korren was still in stalker mode. ("MOM!" It's a sad truth, Korren, live with it.) Trust me, that's not the way it's always going to be...but I can't elaborate on that further, since it would give away too much. Just know that if a guy (or girl) has a mind-consuming fascination for you, you probably don't want to become involved with him/her. Don't make any mistakes because of what I write.**

**That said...**

**WARNING: The following chapter contains several instances of Sue stupidity in which the reader may feel strongly compelled to smack his/her forehead. This can lead to headaches and/or severe nose bleeds (and trust me, I know from experience). Read on with caution. Ye hath been warned.**

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

"WHAT?!"

For a powerful Sue who had a vision of peace and prosperity that was miles closer to success than any plan before it, "Her Majesty" spent a lot of time being significantly less than pleased.

"YOU FAILED TO BRING BACK THE TAPESTRY?!"

Morganna Morningstar Lightpaw Springleaf the Wonderful, the midnight-furred chieftess of the Juskaspringleaf, and Sienna Saffronia Jacinthe Mauricia Amberfyre, the orange-furred ottermaid who had led the charge of the Sue-ified Redwallers against the Sentinels of Mossflower, cowered gracefully before the great leader of the Sues. "Her Majesty" was indeed a rare Sue; she had mastered the art form of speaking at an extremely loud volume without blowing out her voice or creating the impression that she was delusional, severely ill, or anything else other than beautifully livid. The resultant wind that blew from the pseudo-character's mighty (yet femininely dainty) lungs extinguished the candles in Great Hall, Cavern Hole, and, in fact, the rest of the Abbey, all at the same time, while "Her Majesty" still remained in the former Abbot's quarters. For a second, Morganna thought that she had even put out the sun's flames…until she realized that the darkness was only caused by the sudden development of angry purple clouds directly above the Abbey. That was probably another result of "Her Majesty's" dreadful anger.

The vixen had to admit that the effect was terrifying, and, for the first time in her young Sue-life, she was struck dumb out of fear.

Sienna, however, was slightly more used to this than Morganna, and somehow managed to find her voice. "But, but, Your Excellency," she stammered, managing to sound confident while she did so, "I thought you'd be glad to know that the green-clad infidels are no longer a problem."

"No longer a problem? NO LONGER A PROBLEM?! DO YOU KNOW _NOTHING?!_" The master Sue slapped her own forehead viciously with her beautiful paw, and huffed a violent sigh. After a few moments, she spoke again, speaking somewhat more collectedly, although there was still an angry, dangerous lilt to her fascinating voice. "Those creatures place their lives and hopes in that piece of fabric. As long as they have it, they will _always _be a problem, because somehow, they believe that as long as they keep their _precious_ Martin out of our paws, that they will still have a chance to bring this world back to their primitive idol-worshiping ways. And _you know what?_"

The two lesser Sues cringed as only perfect ladies can, as their leader advanced on them, a gorgeous fury overtaking her. "They're _right._ That…that _picture_ holds the key to bringing an end to the old ways of darkness, and beginning the new ways of light. As long as they have it, we are helpless in continuing our great mission. I have seen it…"

She did not begin yelling (such a _coarse_ word) again, like Sienna and Morganna expected her to. Instead, she turned to the sandstone walls of her inner sanctum, snarling hatefully at the dreadfully _normal_ red color they possessed.

"Every day, every night," she said, her beautiful voice poisonously (yet magnificently) quiet as she did so, "I strive to end the infidels' era in this Abbey. I envision it as it should be…grand, glimmering, purple. I name it Grand-Glimmering-Purplewall, its rightful name."

The ottermaid and the vixen sighed dreamily; "Her Majesty" was such a creative genius when it came to naming things. "Her Majesty" sighed a little too, letting herself escape into the dream world she so wished to create; yet, the peace could not last forever.

"But," she continued, snarling ferociously (and yet so attractively), "whenever I place my paw upon the wall, intending to make my dreams a reality, I behold, instead of this Abbey's correct color, a long-dead mouse in gleaming armor. The mouse from that blasted _picture!_"

Morganna and Sienna gasped. "Her Majesty" had said "blasted!" Oh, goodness gracious, if she was mad enough to use such horrible language, then this had to be more important than they thought!

"Her Majesty" placed her paw on the red sandstone wall once more. Immediately, her dark purple eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed in the pure, unadulterated hate that only Sues can know without feeling guilt about it. "I see you, mouse," she growled, somehow not seeming barbaric as she did so. "This Abbey is _mine_ now. You cannot have it. Get out of the way."

A few tense moments passed, in which Morganna and Sienna gaped wondrously and "Her Majesty" glowered furiously at the mouse whom only she could see. Then, the master Sue gave an agonized squeal, and fell away from the wall. Her captains came immediately to her side, catching her as she nearly collapsed in a graceful swoon, gibbering inanely in a breathy female whisper as she did.

"My paw! He cut off my delicate, beautiful, gentle widdle paw! Oh, the hateful scoundrel, trying to strike a lady this way!"

Morganna and Sienna looked at "Her Majesty's" paws in panic, only to breathe a sigh of relief when they saw that both paws were still intact and still infinitely slender and still gorgeous.

"It's all right, milady," said the orange-furred ottermaid, "It was a dream. That nasty mousey didn't really chop off your beautiful paw."

"Good." The master Sue's voice was so feathery, it would have been comical, had she not been a Sue.

Morganna smiled. She had made a guess at what the mouse had meant, and, though she was still new to the Abbey, it never hurt to speak one's mind. Did it?

"So…since he spared your paw, does that mean he'll give the Abbey up peacefully so that we can live in harmony within beautiful amethyst walls for the rest of our joyous existence?"

"Her Majesty's" eyes immediately lost their faint-induced cloudiness, and locked with Morganna's equally purple eyes. Sienna glanced between them, and wisely took advantage of the terrible moment of silence that passed between her two fellow Sues to get her sparkly rudder out of the room.

A moment later, "Her Majesty's" violent rage was officially back in action. "GET OOOUUUT!! LEEEEAAAAVE MEEEEEEE!! I'M SURROOUUNDED BY IDIOTS! GO AWAAAAAAAAAAY!!"

The midnight vixen fairly flew out of the room, weeping piteously. She ran throughout the Abbey, wailing and fretting, until she finally found her Airen in Cavern Hole and buried her face in his shiny, black-purple-grey chestfur.

"Her Majesty," however, was not yet done. Angrily, she stared out of the woefully small window in the room she had stolen from the Abbey's lawful leader, glaring balefully to the east. _It seems that if I want a job done right,_ she thought, _I'll just have to do it myself._

She looked up at the angry skies, filled to bursting with purple clouds that shared in her wrath completely. With one thought on her part, the clouds began to move toward the sea, thundering melodiously. "Her Majesty" frowned delicately, willing her precipitation-born minions toward in the direction in which the last survivors of Redwall and the Sentinels had fled.

_Spring is coming,_ she thought, _to wash away the evil, darkness-ridden winter of old. And nobeast, not even armored mice, stupid hedgepigs, or green-clad infidels, is going to stop it. Or me__._

* * *

The original wording of Battle Situation 207 was that the Sentinels and whatever guests they had with them were to leave CHH on the evening of their fourth day there, with or without the stragglers who had not shown up, no matter what happened or what the weather conditions were. It was a practically flawless plan; they'd be leaving by cover of darkness, which would hopefully give them a head start against whatever they were fleeing. They would actually hope for bad weather, since storms would cover their tracks and dilute their scent; everybeast had actually cheered when, on the third afternoon after the battle, very strong winds had blown in from the west, which probably signified a big storm coming landward from the sea.

Then, the young rat known as Kenzie Farsight spoke up. "Eh, Mattia…there are clouds blowing in from the east too."

"What?" The albino hare peered over her trainee's shoulder, squinting toward the east. There were indeed clouds coming in, large, angry, purple clouds, moving against the prevailing wind. From what she could tell, half of the flatlands were already drenched in the sickly-sweet purple rain that seemed to flout down out of the clouds, not fall. If those clouds kept coming at the same rate, they would reach the foothills by nightfall.

"Lilac!" The sandy-colored hare jerked her head toward's Mattia's shout, her black-tipped ears straightening with alarm. Mattia gestured toward the unnatural weather patterns to the east. "Get everybeast inside! No tellin' what that's gonna do to anybeast caught in it!"

The rest of the day flew by in a frenzy. Those who had escaped the stuffy nature of the mole burrow by camping outside in tents scuttled to break camp, helped by anybeast who was not busy. The Redwallers immediately scrambled to get the Tapestry to the least leaky room in the burrow, an old dining hall that was lined with a thick wall of stone. Falcir the Silent directed a few Sentinel otters in quickly water-proofing the rest of the tunnels. All the while, the Sentinels took turns standing at the top of the hill, watching anxiously as the purple clouds gradually began to move more and more quickly toward their position.

Thankfully, almost everybeast was inside when the thunderstorm struck by the last light of evening. Darkfur had to run to the top of the hill and fetch Rillame, a young weaselmaid who was on sentry duty, but, due to a hard run back and forth, both Sentinels made it inside without a single drop of water landing on them. Barely. Just as soon as they stepped inside, the characteristic pitter-patter of rain droplets sounded above everybeast's head; both beasts quivered instinctively as they realized how close they had come to getting caught out in the Sue rain.

Everybeast breathed again, suddenly noticing that they had been practically holding their breaths for the entire afternoon…until Primrose, the Recorder's wife, asked in a frightened whisper, "Have you seen Robin?"

All talking immediately halted, and everybeast turned to look at the now-closed door, eyes wide and mouths open in horror.

Darkfur was closest to the door, having pushed Rillame inside first in their mad dash back to the burrow. In a flash, he had torn the door open again, and, without any hesitation, rushed out into the wind and rain. Rillame suddenly found herself pushed aside as the other three Squirrel Brothers crowded the doorway, peering anxiously out into the inclement weather to watch their brother.

They could barely see his silhouette as he ran, looking blindly about him and shouting Robin's name as loudly as he could possibly manage. Then, he seemed to hear something, and rushed to the top of a hill nearby, where there was a small copse of bushes. Robin liked those bushes; he could sleep beneath them, away from the hustle and bustle of the camp. That explained how he had not heard everybeast shouting to get inside.

For what seemed to be forever, the two dark figures ran back toward the mole burrow, buffeted by the angry wind. Then, they burst back into the door, breathing heavily.

Primrose started toward her son, and tearfully embraced him, not caring that he was soaked to the bone. Arrowpaw, Brushtail, and Curltail practically jumped on their brother, chattering incoherently in their native dialect, clapping him on the back, and laughing heartily. Everybeast breathed another sigh of relief…until Primrose, once again, said something to end the happy moment.

"Robin…what happened to you?"

Those beasts who were close enough to stare did so; those who were further toward the back clamored loudly to know what was wrong. The Archer officer and the young mouse looked at each other in alarm, and then, looked down at their clothes. Both were now entirely clad in a bright, vibrant purple, when their garments had all been Sentinels' green before the rainstorm. Even the eye sewn onto Darkfur's tunic had changed from a dark-ish brown to a deep purple, which, Mavren noticed, resembled the dark purple eyes of the thing that used to be Brother Grigory.

That was not all. Primrose's dress, which had been drenched when she embraced her son, was purple now as well, in all the places that had touched the rainwater. The tunics of Arrowpaw, Brushtail, and Curltail were speckled with purple dots and the occasional large spot, respectively where the raindrops had hit them and where they had touched their brother. Fortunately, when Lilac examined the victims afterward, she discovered that the rain had had no effects on their personalities or appearance; apparantly, the Sue-spell in the rain was not strong enough to overpower a beast's brain through the skin.

"Still," she said later, meeting with her officers, Mavren, and Matthew, "I shudder to think about what might have happened if that poison had touched the Tapestry."

The rain continued all the next day, and their hopes of leaving CHH on time had to be abandoned.

* * *

On the dawn of the fifth morning, everybeast was already packed up and ready to go. The sound of the rain had ceased overhead, and, when Bren Sprakenwulf chanced a glance outside the door, the sun was shining brightly. The large fox-wolf creature sniffed, and wrinkled her nose in distaste, but pushed the door all the way open and made her way out of the burrow.

"All clear," she said. "Everything's relatively safe…just try not to vomit too much."

Everything that had been touched by the Sue rain was purple. The grass had emerged practically overnight, and would have looked healthy if it were green. Even the copse where Robin had fallen asleep was blooming with little light purple flowers. "Sparkly purple Hellgates," muttered Sprakenwulf. "That's what they've turned the place into."

Lilac took one look at their surroundings, and went back into the burrow. "Stir your stumps, everybeast! We're leaving, this very moment. Pick up your things and move out."

The Abbey Champion stopped her as she passed, laying a spiked paw on her shoulder. "Lilac, what about Snowflower? We haven't heard from her."

"If she's not here by now, she probably won't find us at all. That storm pretty much wiped out everything she could have tracked us with."

"But…" Quirky began to protest, but was promptly shushed by the older hare.

"But nothing. We have to leave, or we'll have nowhere to run." And, with that, Lilac returned to the process of packing up, rushing to get her own things as she simaltaneously answered questions from two to four Sentinels at once.

Isaac clamped a paw on his friend's shoulder, as Quirky's ears stood up rigid in anger. "Be still, Quirks. She's right."

"How the blazes could she be right? That's our bally _friend_ out there! We can't just bloody well leave her behind!"

"Quirky," said Mavren, fixing the young hare with his famed "Warrior's Stare," which brooked no arguments, "she _is_ right. There are fifty or so beasts here, all of whom have their lives and freedom at stake. We can't put them in danger for one beast who might never show up."

"But she _will_ show up!"

"Quirky, she has no pawprints to follow, and couldn't be able to pick up any scent beyond…" here Isaac snorted the offensive smell of violets and various other flowers, many of which he was allergic to, out of his running nose, "…that."

The young hare ground his teeth and clenched his paws in anger, but he could see his friends' point. Wren gently laid her paw on his, patting it comfortingly until he relaxed.

"Snowflower's been on her own before, Quirks, and she knows her way around. If she's still alive, we'll see her at Salamandastron. That's where everybeast is going."

"Well, define 'alive,' Wren."

"…We'll see her again. One way or another."

* * *

**Anybody get a headache and/or nosebleed? If so...please don't sue me (or Sue_ify_ me, even worse). Leave any complaints in a review, because that's what discontented readers _do._**


	17. Chapter 16

**The demon Writer's Block has been conquered...for now. Don't expect an early update on the next chapter, however...I still don't know what to write for it. Anyhoo...**

**Oreramar: Well, the purple fur is a bit of a generalization. Some of my Sues can have some deviations...take Morganna, for example, she's pitch black. However, you can tell if a Sue is one of the purple Sues by their eyes, which will always be purple, regardless of the fur. Sienna's like that...I didn't have much time to describe her other purple features in the last chapter, but I probably will include a more in-depth description later. Lucky me. *gag* And, I know there's no need for Snowflower to track the Sentinels, since everybeast's headed to Salamandastron anyway; her friends just want them with her, so they don't need to worry about her. Sorry if that wasn't clear.**

**Study in Silence: Yeah, _that_ one gave me a headache...or, at least, it hurt my mind enough so that my brain thought I was having a headache. Banging my head against the nearest wall helped a bit there too...**

**Kelaiah: I know you have nothing against Korren, and that you didn't really think he was a stalker when he couldn't help himself. I just wanted to make sure, you know? And, you hit upon my real reason for choosing purple as the Sue color for this fic: "Her Majesty" is supposed to have a serious royalty complex. The Purple Prose suggestion you made in an earlier review is just a coincidence...although, I'm totally willing to take credit for the pure genius of that connection if you're not going to. Wishful thinking there, I know, but still. :D Anyway...well, be patient. Morganna and "Her Majesty" will...get their just desserts. Eventually.**

**Lilac: Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Well, I kinda did...heehee, now there's a lame joke for you. Darkfur's my favorite Squirrel Brother too. I wanted to give him a heroic moment. Did it work?**

**storiewriter: More mail coming your way, then. I'll try not to write in flowery language too much, but with Sues, I just can't avoid it. :P On the bright side, this chapter is long (you said you liked long chapters), and there are not any Sues at all. Enjoy.**

**Paths Crossing: Meh, it's okay, you reviewed, that's what matters. Yes, thank you for the otter Sue. Don't worry; eventually, things will get back to normal, and purple will seem pretty again.**

**Now, on to the _fun_ stuff...**

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

The Sentinels of Mossflower and the remaining survivors of Redwall were lucky enough to have sufficient shelter when the purple Sue rain was unleashed. The three mice, Korren, Rano, and Snowflower, were not as fortunate, since they had been crossing the western flatlands, on which there was no suitable cover available.

Naturally, they weren't very happy about their circumstances. Rano shook his fist at the skies and shouted some colorful Borderland profanity at the clouds, which only made the rain come down harder. Snowflower's mind was divided between worrying about her friends and praying dearly that they had some shelter, and, when she found out what the rain did to inanimate objects, hoping against all hope that her cloak would protect her longbow and arrows, both of which were bound on her back. Korren remained completely silent, and continued walking, despite the winds that battered against them all, seemingly telling them to turn back. Several times, when the wind proved too much for him and for Snowflower, Rano grabbed his friend's shoulder, motioning for the mousemaid to do the same, so that the big fieldmouse was pulling them forward. In this fashion, they managed to weather the storm as best as they could.

For two days, the storm raged. Korren pushed them to continue, not daring to stop and rest; he didn't know who this weather-controlling Sue was or what it wanted to accomplish with this tempest, but he didn't want it to find them and focus its efforts on them. A moving target was harder to hit, even for Sues. So, for forty-eight straight hours, he kept moving, and kept his friends moving in every way he could.

Once, near the thirty-six hour mark, he heard the mousemaid's voice rising above the wind's howl, begging him, for the love of all the seasons, to stop. Turning around, he saw that his companions were significantly further behind him than was safe at the moment. Rano had literally collapsed, and lay face down in the mud. The mousemaid was on her knees beside him, and, judging from the way she trembled, appeared to be on the verge of collapse herself. He wanted to be there literally within a blink of an eye, and, had it been only Rano who was in trouble, he would have been. However, for the mousemaid's sake, he resorted to a simple sprint, which got him there quickly, yet at a pace that could be considered normal.

Wordlessly, he took his friend's arms, and wrapped them about his neck. He lifted Rano from the ground, and the halfway-unconscious harvest mouse instinctively curled his legs around Korren's waist, so that the fieldmouse was carrying him piggy-back style, as he had done many times in their adventures together. Using his right paw to hold Rano's paws around his neck, Korren extended his left paw to the mousemaid.

"Can ye stand?" he hollered, so that she could hear him above the wind.

As a response, she gripped his paw, and struggled to her footpaws; however, she did not remain that way for long. Still exhausted, she would have been unsteady on her footpaws even without the wind; as it was, she practically fell at Korren's footpaws. Korren caught her about the waist with his left arm, and hauled her upright.

"Put yer arm aroun' m'shoulders!"

"What?" The mousemaid's inquiry wasn't one of misunderstanding, but one of mild disgust.

"Jus' do it! Ye want t'keep standin', doncha?"

Reluctantly, she complied, maneuvering her right arm so that it rested beneath Rano's head and her paw gripped Korren's right shoulder. The fieldmouse suppressed the urge to quiver in delight at the thought of her touching him, choosing instead to grit his teeth and drag himself forward, against the wind.

The mousemaid stumbled, and, despite her fatigue, nearly jogged to keep up with his long pawsteps as he half-led, half-dragged her with the paw he had around her waist. Her awkward position put her in a perfect situation to shout in the fieldmouse's ear, causing him to wince despite himself.

"Are you flippin' crazy? We can't go on like this!"

"No time! They're lookin' fer us! I'm tryin' t'make sure they can't find us!"

"You can't keep walking forever! Not carrying us like this!"

"Watch me!"

"…You're a madbeast! You need to stop, rest, get out of the storm! We all do!"

Korren ground his teeth even harder. This mousemaid was even more annoying than Rano could be. He bit back an acidic reply, telling himself that it wasn't her fault that she didn't know what was going on, but, since he didn't answer with words, she kept talking.

"You're tired! We're _all_ tired! We need to stop and make camp!"

His reply came out somewhat more sarcastic than he had intended. "You want t'sleep?"

She seemed somewhat taken aback, obviously not expecting her observations to be answered with a question. "…_Aye!_" she shouted, her yell becoming louder as her temper grew. "Didn't you _hear_ me…"

"Then _shut up!_ I'll do the hard work! You just relax an' git some shut-eye!"

The mousemaid's mouth dropped open. Obviously, she was offended. Thankfully, she was too worn out to smack him right then and there, as she was clearly tempted to do; Korren just hoped that she wouldn't decide to smack him doubly hard later to make up for it. Part of him, the romantic half, wanted to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness, but his rational half told him that, even if her feelings were hurt, he was doing what was best for her. She wanted to stop and rest, but they couldn't stop, not while this Sue was raging against everything good and natural. So, he forced himself to continue, fixing his gaze on a point in front of them and willing every ounce of strength in his body to hold out until the rain stopped.

For a long while, she stubbornly walked beside him, refusing to be beholden to him as long as she had the strength to move her footpaws. However, the little half-jog she had to maintain in order to keep up with him drained her of what little strength she had, and, at long last, she succumbed to her need for sleep. Her footpaws failed her, her head slowly dropped to rest on his shoulder, and her left paw gripped her right one, so that she, like Rano, was practically hanging from Korren's neck. Fearing that he would hurt her if he dragged her footpaws behind him, like he was doing at the moment, Korren stopped, bent down, and slipped his right arm under her knees, not letting himself realize that he was now carrying her bridal-style. Fortunately, the pressure of her paws kept Rano's paws around his neck, so that the young harvest mouse did not slip from Korren's back now that the fieldmouse's paws were full.

With that taken care of, Korren walked on through the night, carrying his companions gently and yet quickly, so that they slept while he gained ground. When his companions awoke in the morning, they were lying on dry ground, near a small, but warm fire. And, a few yards away from them, wrapped in his now Sue-ified cloak, Korren slept peacefully, thoroughly worn out after his exertions.

* * *

Although, despite its uncomfortable circumstances, her sleep had not been disturbed, Snowflower's dreams had been fearful the entire night, full of rampaging Sues and awful storms. The last, and the worst, dream involved the image of a dark, hooded mouse, whom she recognized as Korren, her "enigmatic rescuer." The tall mouse approached her, using a gait that was slow and ominous, and she ran away from him; at least, she tried, but her footpaws seemed to be made of lead, rendering her incapable of moving. At the moment when she thought her heart would burst in suspense and fear, he unveiled himself with a deft, practically invisible movement of his paw. Beneath the hood was her worst nightmare…a handsome, gentle face, with fur tinted in that awful shade of purple that seemed to permeate everything she had once held dear. Large, cow-like purple eyes held her gaze, and, no matter what, she couldn't break away from their power…

The mousemaid awoke in a cold sweat, and sat up so rapidly that all the blood left her head and made her feel faint. She sat for a moment, pressing her palm to her forehead and panting slightly, until her vision cleared…and she noticed that her cloak, which had been spread above her to serve as a blanket, was that same damned shade of purple.

Snowflower panicked, and, with a shriek kicked the offensive article of clothing away from her, to discover that her tunic and leggings were the same color. She started to take a breath, hoping to scream her way out of what _had_ to be another nightmare…but, in a sudden moment of lucidity, she realized that her clothing had been purple before she fell asleep, that it was only a result of the rain, and that she was not going to turn into a Sue because just because she was wearing purple. _It's okay__,_ her mind said to her, sounding remarkably like her father's voice had when he had comforted her whenever she awoke from a night terror as a child. _Everything is all right._

"Everything is all right," she repeated to herself, taking a deep breath and pressing her paws to her eyes. She gave a convulsive shudder, still working off the extra adrenaline her dreams had produced.

After a few moments, she got up, and began to take in her surroundings. The campsite was on a small land-rise that was too small to be called a hill, but still gave her a perfect view of the flatlands, which were also colored purple with a multitude of violets and lavender blossoms. The rise was also the furthest border of the foothills, which loomed over the campsite, not a half a day's journey away. Snowflower frowned; the hills hadn't been that close when she had last seen them. _Just how far did we get while we were asleep?_ she wondered.

About five feet away from her was a little campfire, which was only slightly necessary in the waning chill of a spring Sue-morning. On the other side of the fire, her companions slept peacefully. When she laid her eyes on Korren, her heart gave a sudden, anxious throb, and she remembered the nightmare that had awoken her. True, it was just a dream…but then again, the directions Martin the Warrior had given her to get the Tapestry out of Redwall had been somewhat like a dream. _Are you trying to tell me something?_ she asked nobeast in particular, since she hadn't seen Martin anywhere in the dream.

"Ye okay, lass?" From his sleeping spot on the opposite side of the fire, Rano sat up quickly, taking a deep breath as he did so, and then snorting the odious Sue-scent out of his nose with a scowl.

The mousemaid started, and then nodded curtly, speaking a bit more quickly than was necessary…not all the adrenaline was gone yet. "Yeah, I'm fine, perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

The harvest mouse blinked, and shook his head, evidently too drowsy to keep up with her words very well. "Er…I dunno…ye looked a bit, er, frightened, lass. Wide eyes." _And you wake up _now, _instead of when I screamed a few minutes ago? And I thought _Wren_ was a heavy sleeper…_

"Early morning stares." _Liar. You're scared out of your wits, and you know it._

"Whate'er. 'm goin' back t'sleep."

Rano's effort was doomed to fail. As soon as the golden sun rose fully into the sky, a maddening chorus of extremely happy birds broke out into a song that seemed oddly rehearsed. Normally, Snowflower liked to get up to birdsong, since it was a particularly gentle awakening and she liked to lie in bed and try to identify the species of bird that was singing. This birdsong was not gentle at all…it sounded like the Redwall Malebeast's Choir singing a rowdy drinking song at the loudest fortissimo they could possibly manage, only it was a lot more sweet-sounding and melodious. On top of that, Snowflower could not identify any recognizable bird's calls; most natural birdcalls she knew were, in fact, battle cries, and no bird in a Sue world could possibly sing about anything but peace. The whole thing made her cringe and put her paws over her ears, and briefly consider sucking her thumbclaw as well.

Rano's reaction to the birdsong was much more placid. He sighed, beat his head softly against the ground a few times, and sat up. "Well, scratch _that_," he muttered, before shuffling over to check his supplies.

_Now _there's _an idea...oh no, my baby!_

The mousemaid hurried to her bow, and bent down to examine it, praying that she wouldn't find too much Sue-damage. To her surprise, relief, and confusion, the bow was completely normal, down to the white flowers she had dyed into its wood.

"Uh, Rano…are your weapons, er, normal? Or are they Sue-ified?"

The harvest mouse lethargically removed his sword from its scabbard, and gave her an answer after a cursory glance at it. "They're all right, lass. Scabbard's purple, though."

"Huh, my bow's normal too…and my arrows, save for the fletchings." Here Snowflower almost wept; she had nearly died when she plucked those feathers from the tail of Irakra, the albino sparrow king, and now all she had to show for it were puke-purple fletchings. "My quiver's purple too." She was _not_ going to think about the hours she had spent embroidering that arrow-case from Hellgates, when she hated sewing so much; the next Sue she laid her eyes on was going to die, pure and simple.

"It absorbed th'rain, lass. That's what 'appened."

"Joy." The word was infused with every ounce of sarcasm she could muster. _Well, at least the important stuff is normal…_

A few moments of silence ensued, in which Snowflower stared thoughtfully at her purple fletchings, wondering if there was a way to remove the Sue-stains from them. Then, Rano broke the silence with a loud, unprintable curse, startling the mousemaid into looking at him.

"Ye checked yer food yet, lass?"

Snowflower opened her haversack, and noticed that everything smelled like the Laterose. Of course it smelled like that, she had put her little pouch into the bag in a futile attempt at keeping it dry. Or…was it futile? Everything, _every, blasted, thing,_ that she had been wearing had been drenched in the downpour, but the travelling food items she had been given at the Sentinel's campsite, along with her now considerably rumpled lacy blue dress, were still natural-looking and looked as if they had never been touched by water.

"My stuff's fine. What happened to yours?"

Rano stared at her in unadulterated, wordless envy, and lifted a biscuit so she could see it. The thing was shiny, glittery, and completely purple, and, on top of that, smeared with a form of lilac icing that somehow had not been crushed in the cramped conditions of a haversack.

"Would ye eat this beauty, lass?"

The mousemaid cocked an eyebrow, which widened her already-wide eyes almost to the point that it was almost painful. "Not a chance in Hellgates. What _is_ that, poison?"

"Might's well be." The harvest mouse forcefully chucked the biscuit into the fire. He stared at it for a few seconds, and blinked. Then he stared a few seconds more, and blinked again in disbelief.

"Blast th'thing!" he snarled, taking a stick and prodding the biscuit viciously. "Burn, damn ye, burn!" When he was not obeyed, he burst into an incredibly long string of even worse language. Snowflower had no doubt that the words he used would have had searats crying…or laughing, depending on the searat. She would be inclined to chuckle, if she wasn't equally as angry as Rano was.

After a few moments, the harvest mouse had calmed down a bit. He was no longer shouting profanity at the fire-proof Sue-biscuit; instead, he had resorted to sitting down, glowering, and _muttering_ profanity at said fire-proof Sue-biscuit. Snowflower decided that now was as good a time as anything to start up the conversation again. It wasn't as if she enjoyed it, but there were some questions that had to be asked.

"Um…is Korren's haversack the same way?"

Another vulgar oath. _Mental note: never let Rano anywhere near Robin and Lark while he's mad. Primrose would never forgive me…_

"…I'll take that as a yes. Are you sure? Because if there's anything that survived, we need to take it. We're low on food anyway."

He huffed, and peered into his haversack again, taking out two bottles. She took them, opened them, and sniffed at the cap…just water and a light travelling blackberry cordial, nothing sparkly about either of them; the bottles were water-proof, so no rain had leaked inside them. A thorough examination of Korren's haversack proved just as profitable. Snowflower placed all four bottles into her own haversack, so they would have the extra protection of her rose pouch.

The remaining contents of the other two haversacks…and, for that matter, the haversacks themselves…were now useless. Rano threw them on the fire and tried to burn them. Unsurprisingly, the attempt failed miserably, so he just threw them as far away from the camp as possible, sending a few of his best profane words after them. When he caught The Look Snowflower was sending his way, he grinned sardonically and said, "A token t'remember me by, lass!" The only reply he received was a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head.

Korren slept well into the day. The mousemaid tried to wake him several times, saying that they were wasting daylight and had to get going, but to no avail.

The fifth, and eventually final, time she did so, Rano looked up at her from his place by the fire, where he was keeping himself busy by obsessively trying to burn the un-burnable biscuit. "He's tired, lass. Let'im sleep."

She scoffed, and threw another glare in the harvest mouse's direction. "It's nearly noon, Rano! We've got to get going! And besides, the great hypocrite deserves it…he kept us on our footpaws for two days, so it's about time we messed with _his_ sleep patterns."

Rano sighed. "Ye'll never be able t'wake 'im up. An' anyway, 'e's never able t'sleep whene'er a Sue kin harm us. Th'fact that 'e's sleepin' is a sign that we're safe fer now."

The mousemaid's mind dropped everything it was thinking about, and, slowly, she turned to face the unfortunate harvest mouse. "You mean," she said, carefully mulling over each word she chose, "he can sense when Sues are near?"

Suddenly realizing that he had said too much, Rano immediately turned back to the unburnable biscuit, and tried to get the conversation to do the same thing. "Erm, lass, I think I see sparks…"

"Oho, no. No you don't!" Snowflower gripped the harvest mouse's shoulder, and, not harshly, but not gently either, spun him around to face her. "Tell me, Mr. Larkspur," she said, deliberately using the title he had said he hated, "what is going on with this _friend_ of yours?"

"I dunno what ye're talkin' about…"

"That's bunk, and you know it! He's a Stu, isn't he?"

Rano's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and fear. "I dunno what ye're talkin' about," he muttered, in an obvious lie.

"Yes, you do. He's got impossible strength and endurance, which I saw last night. He's constantly got his face covered up, and he's barely spoken to me at all, which both point to the typical 'mysterious rescuer' Stu. What next, Rano? Are we going to wake up one morning impossibly beautiful with stupid purple fur, all because your 'friend' recruited us?"

"Now why would I do that? Ye're beautiful anyways, lass, sah there's not much room fer improvement." At the sound of the low tenor voice that was now so frighteningly attractive to her ears, the mousemaid released Rano, who promptly got out of her reach. Korren was up, his now-purple hood covering his face, as usual, and he was staring at her, again.

For the first time, but certainly not the last, Snowflower wished she could see his expression; being stared at by a seemingly faceless beast was thoroughly disconcerting, and the fact that he had called her beautiful did not lessen that feeling in the slightest. It made her angry…the nerve of the mouse! He stood so tall, his shoulders almost painfully erect, and she was sure that he had a cool look in his eyes, as he appraised her like she was a slab of fish meat. She glared back at him, but, of course, she couldn't see his expression, so the satisfaction of making him mad in return was denied her.

"What are you?" she said, her voice as quiet as his had been, only far more acidic in nature. He ignored her.

"Rano, we've got t'get goin'. Nothin's sensed us yet, but they're lookin'."

The harvest mouse gave Snowflower a sideways glance, as if debating with himself whether to talk in front of her. She saved him the trouble.

"You mean you can sense when a Sue is looking for us?" She practically spat the words, and both male mice started, both in surprise that she had caught on so quickly and in astonishment at her sudden angry mood. She ignored them, and picked up her haversack and weapons.

"Lead on, Korren," she said, glaring at the faceless beast before her. "The sooner we get to Salamandastron, the better."

He returned her gaze for a few tight moments, and then his hooded head dipped slowly in a solemn nod. They started off immediately, since they were ready anyway. Korren, as usual, walked a couple paces ahead. Rano walked next to Snowflower, like he had before, but this time, he was reluctant even to meet her eyes, much less speak to her. She'd apologize profusely later; at the moment, she was too irritated at her situation, and, to be frank, scared of the mouse that walked ahead of her to be sufficiently sincere in making amends.

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**Oh, before I forget. Kelaiah has recently drawn a portrait of Snowflower. It is posted on his Deviantart account, which you can find in his profile. I really recommend you see it; the picture is quite beautiful.**

**Kel, thank you. I don't have a Deviant account, so I couldn't leave a comment on the pic, but I am quite impressed with it. The birthmark isn't _quite_ what I imagined, but meh, if I tried to describe _exactly_ what I imagined, you'd all suspect me of being a _real_ Suethor. Besides, the birthmark you did is quite attractive, maybe more attractive than what I imagined. And, in the end, you captured Snowy's spirit perfectly, and that's what matters to me.**


	18. Chapter 17

**Finally, I managed to get this chapter up! I'm really sorry it took so long...I had no idea what to write for this chapter. Don't take me wrong, I know where this story is going and I'm not making it up as I go along, but Chapter 17 threw me for a loop in the brainstorming process. Don't worry, I already have 18 written and a pretty good idea for 19, so the next few chapters should come up pretty quickly.**

**Lilac: Yeah, I have no idea where the fire-proof biscuit came from...never mind, I do. (looks at a certain weasel from Redwall on Broadway, who is the random moment personified) Anyhoo, yeah, I wish I had the recipe too, since I have not yet learned to cook. You probably know how that is. ;)**

**Adderstar: Hm, interesting quote. I'll fit it in somewhere I suppose...though, do you mind if I split it up a bit? I don't mean this as an insult, but I think it would fit better if I made it into one half of a conversation. Is that all right?**

**Kelaiah: Well, you were right about the Deviant account, and I got one. I'll probably only be an art critic, however...the drawings I do are really hard on the eyes. And no, you did not make Snowflower too beautiful; it's always been a belief of mine that the right dress can make _any_girl look gorgeous, and that lacy thing is Snowflower's dress. I'm glad you thought the storm scene was cute, and that dress is still okay, so it'll probably turn up sometime. And Rano, Quirky, and Isaac are still jealous of how Korren can sneak onto your review page and not get yelled at. (_How _do_ you do that? _I make a valid point.** **_Okay...I guess I can't argue with that logic_. Darn tootin' ye kin't.)**

**Paths Crossing: Yeah, the Laterose bush is causing trouble...there'll be a chapter on that later. And Korren likes the cloak, purple or not, so I'm not sure if he'll lose it. He can be stubborn that way. (Heck yeah!Korren, hush!)**

**Bdeogale Nigripes: It's true. I thought of that, and cracked myself up for a full twenty minutes. I've learned to love my random moments.**

**Oreramar: Nightmares can be helpful that way, I guess. Martin's still taking care of the Redwallers. Yup, ingesting that biscuit could damage your health...the same goes for the Sue rainwater. Both substances can corrupt a beast from the inside out if ingested.**

**storiewriter: Quote: ...That was...odd. You _are_ exercising caution when indulging in Christmas cookies, right? I hope so... You're welcome for making her smart. I love that about Snowy...**

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_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Life at Redwall Abbey had changed significantly since the Sue-storm, and the Sues believed that it was a change for the better. "Her Majesty" wore a bright, radiant, blinding smile on her ever-so-gorgeous face at all times, even during her still-fruitless attempts to change the Abbey's color. Morganna and Skipperess Sienna were completely forgiven for failing to obtain the Tapestry, even though the Sue Queen had made it quite clear that they could never redeem themselves. The birds chirped with more merriness than usual, and even the purple apples, lavender peaches, and violet pears in the orchard seemed to laugh (despite the fact that none of these fruits should have been ripe in late winter).

It was obvious that a major victory had been won, but nobeast, not even Albania Constancia Judicia the Judicial, the ci-devant Badgermum Alba, could get "Her Majesty" to reveal just what that victory was.

After days of waiting, Sienna could stand it no longer. The orange-furred ottermaid tippawed up to "Her Majesty's" chamber, silently cracked open the door, and peered inside.

"Her Majesty" stood near the window, singing brightly in what Sienna instantly recognized at the native tongue of Redwall's sparrows. A small, cloaked figure stood nearby, observing with slightly less enthusiasm than most Sues would if given the opportunity to hear their leader sing.

After a few moments, the cloaked figure spoke. "My liege," she said, for it was a female with a melodious voice and an odd accent, "thou wasteth thy time a-searching for the green-clad ruffians."

"Her Majesty" left off singing for a bit to admonish the speaker with a stern glance. "Waste my time? Hardly. The barbarians have already been found. It's only a matter of getting to them quickly."

At that moment, the Sparra King landed on the windowsill, chirping sweetly to catch his Queen's attention. "Her Majesty" turned to Irakra and stroked his lavender-colored feathers, twittering gently to him in his own language. That sparrow gave her a swift nod, and then took off; moments later, all of the Sparra warriors could be heard outside, winging their way to the west.

"Her Majesty" smiled, and turned to her companion. "There, you see?" she beamed. "Arorane Softfeather the Mighty-Winged will bring them back. You'll see."

The small figure crossed her arms and huffed a sigh. "How didst thou know wither to look, milady? Thy sight be long, but not _that_ long."

The Sue leader would have been accused of gloating if she were not so very modest. "Quite simple," she answered, "everything the rain turned is now under my dominion. I can see anybeast that walks upon my domain as clearly as those I walk past every day, with or without that awful garlic plant."

The other Sue's interest seemed to be renewed, since she turned her cloaked head quickly, and practically ran to "Her Majesty's" side. "Doth 'anybeast' include my boy, milady?"

"Patience, Caran," soothed to Sue leader. "I've been searching for your son with as much vigor as I can spare."

Sienna gasped silently. "Her Majesty" was close enough to Caranfindel Forodriel Calenhendu to call her by a nickname? Close to the strange little mouse who refused to wear the divine color purple, instead choosing to don herself with many shades of green which, though beautiful, simply were not purple? But how could that be? Everybeast stayed away from Caranfindel, simply because her attitude practically screamed "back off." Why would "Her Majesty" take such an interest in her?

One thing was for sure, Caranfindel's attitude didn't change when she was around her Majesty. "The vigor that thou hast spared beeth not enough," she said irritably. "My son still walketh alone, but it mattereth not for thee. Doth thou not recall thy promise?"

"Her Majesty" sighed audibly – but still beautifully. "Caran, I'm doing the best I can, but your son is a hard lad to find."

"Hard to find?" The smaller Sue's voice rose to an almost-shrill squeak in her anger. "How couldst he be hard to find? Thou knowest that the barbarians all seek sanctuary at that accursed mount on the coast. Knowing my son's wayward thoughts, _that_beeth his destination."

"And what would you have me do about it?" cried the thing that used to be Brother Grigory, who was starting to become enraged herself. "Empty the Abbey? Take Salamandastron by storm?"

"Aye, if that wouldst keep thy promise to me!"

"Her Majesty" shook her head wearily. "Nay, friend, what you ask me to do is impossible. We are still only just recovering from a battle. We haven't the strength to attack yet."

"Thou art fooling with me, right?" The small Sue gave a scoff. "This Abbey be full of warriors and warriormaids. Even the babes canst heft swords thrice their size. Thou couldst march to the Salamander Mount and dig the barbarians out if thou hadst to."

"That is where you are wrong, Caran. Salamandastron is too strong yet even for me. When my rains touched it, not one grain of sand turned to the light. If the tapestry were to arrive at this mountain safely, the Badger Lord would be well-nigh invincible. Therefore, we need to concentrate everything we have on retrieving the tapestry."

Caran listened in silence; when "Her Majesty" used that tone of voice, there was little else to do but listen in silence. By the end of the speech, even she had to admit there was logic in the Sue Queen's reasoning, unprecedented as it was. However, that didn't make her any happier about the situation.

"So, what beeth my Korren? Nothing?"

"Her Majesty" looked sympathetic, but implacable. "No, friend. He is just not the priority at the moment."

Caran clenched her paws into fist, and Sienna got the feeling that she was biting her lip as well. Then, she seemed to come to a conclusion, and her cloaked head shot up.

"It be true that thou canst not take the mount by force, but what about trickery? A small group of us couldst easily sneak within and spy on the Badger Lord's forces."

"Her Majesty" considered this for a moment. "You have a point," she said finally. "I'll organize a few of my best spies for the mission."

"I desireth to be part of the group."

"Caran…"

"No, try thee not to persuade me otherwise. I must needs find my son, and I knoweth he willst be at the mount."

The thing that used to be Brother Grigory stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. "So be it," she said, "but breathe not a word to anybeast else. This mission must remain secret."

Sienna judged that should probably get moving, before they realized she was eavesdropping. Silently, the ottermaid ran down the hallway, blending excellently with the shadows despite her neon orange fur. When nobeast pursued her, Sienna stopped and ran a beautifully tattooed paw through her lustrous purple headfur in relief. Then, she smiled brightly. Morganna would definitely want to hear about this…

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**I just realized that Caran's nickname is really similar to Karen's name from storiewriter and Oreramar's _Surviving the Sues._No plagiarism was intended...when I wanted to name Caran, I went to an Elvish dictionary website and scratched out a rough translation of "Red-hair North-maid Green-eyes." I kept the name because it had a nickname that sounded somewhat normal, and while this story was somewhat inspired by StS, I am in no way trying to copy it. Just so you know...**


	19. Chapter 18

**Phew, it's been a long time, I know. I know you all want to get started reading, so I'll make this quick.**

**Paths Crossing: Excellent, you figured it out before I told you. And...well, you'll have to read and see.**

**Kelaiah: Haha, that'll teach him. Yes, Skipperess is an awful title...yes, the poor little sparrows, but don't worry, they'll wake up...and yes, Caran is somebeast to be unsure of at the very least. I did not notice the similarity between her name and Korren's, but I'm glad you saw that anyway. It's actually rather appropriate, considering some other names I have in mind.**

**storiewriter: Heh, yeah. Caran's so lovably hatable, isn't she? Stupid Sues.**

**Adderstar: Yup, typical. And, about Bro Grig...if you'll check back to the chapter where he made his transformation, you'll probably see a connection between him and one of my most hated Sues. It's vague...too vague, sorry...but I wanted it that way. Revelations of what he now looks like shall be saved for later.**

**Oreramar: Yep, only a Sue. And yeah, Caran's a very, very poor role model. I cannot say how hard it was to make her talk like that.**

**I hate to make you all wait so long for a transition chapter, but that is what this is. I tried to put a little action in it though...no spoilers! I apologize, please don't shoot me...**

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Chapter Eighteen

"Why are we travelling northwest?" inquired Isaac, as he trudged on behind Strongpaw, the Sentinels' warrior leader. "Isn't the quickest way to Salamandastron due west?"

The older badger turned his head over his shoulder briefly, but did not slow his pace. "It's the _shortest_ way, but not the quickest. If we went due west from CHH, we'd hit the mountains, and as you can see," he said, gesturing to the south, "there's no way to get across 'em now."

Isaac looked in the direction Strongpaw had indicated, and winced. The mountains were more than twice as tall as any natural mountain had ever been, and, even from that distance, he had to crane his neck to get the slightest glimpse of the peaks. He could see the peaks though, which wasn't necessarily the situation with natural mountains; most of the time, the highest mountains were lost to sight in the thick, cold fog that surrounded their topmost reaches. These peaks had been thoroughly soaked to the depths of their ancient roots with the poison of the Sue-rain, and they stood proud and tall, the very image of "purple mountain majesties," without one single cloud to mar the view.

Strongpaw continued talking, trusting that Isaac was listening even as he looked on in horror. "So, Mattia's leading us around the mountains, through the foothills…or what used to be the foothills."

Once again, the young badger turned his eyes south to see if he could detect the anomaly in the surrounding topography. Once again, he recognized it almost immediately. The very ground they were walking on should have been small, rolling hills, which would have built in size as a beast went south until they became full-fledged mountains. Instead, the land went from flat, flower-bedecked meadows to towering mountains almost at once. There were no foothills in between, no smaller mountains, just two extremes existing side-by-side in a way that almost never occurred in nature. And, while it made their walking easy on the flat ground, there was still just such _wrongness_ about it all that made Isaac clench his paws and growl softly in his throat.

"Blighters," muttered Quirky, who was walking on Isaac's immediate right. "Is there anythin' they 'aven't ruined?"

"Not from where I stand," the badger replied, laying a brotherly paw on the young hare's shoulder. "But they aren't going to get away with it, not if I have anything to say about it."

A grin appeared on Quirky's face. It was not a humorous smile, but a mirthless, perilous grimace, which was disturbingly reflective of the anger in Isaac's own heart. Isaac had never before seen such a fierce expression on the face of his friend, Redwall's irrepressible, happy-go-lucky young resident hare, but he had a feeling that he would see it again.

"I'll hold ye to that, old lad."

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Wren had never liked to bear weapons, nor cared to learn to wield them, preferring her books and helping her parents with their Recorder duties. Therefore, while Mavren, Isaac, and Quirky walked with the Sentinel guards who circled the Tapestry with their weapons close to paw and ready for battle, she remained with her family and Lily the Warrior's wife in the relative safety of the middle ground, near the Sentinels carrying the Tapestry. She, for one, was secretly rather glad she was not a fighter and that she was in the safest part of their caravan, but her brothers were a different story.

"Are we there yet?"

"Robin," replied Primrose, with the uneasy patience of a parent who is on the brink of explosion, "does it look like the answer's changed much in the last minute or so since you asked that question?"

"Er…a little…"

"Robin!" cried Matthew, with the very loud impatience of a parent who has just passed the brink of explosion. "So help me, if you say another word today, I will personally…"

"Matthew!"

The Recorder very rarely used strong language, and never did in the presence of his children, but Primrose was not taking any chances. Matthew quailed under his wife's glare, and shut his mouth tightly, but his ears grew very, very red at the sound of his sons' giggling. Robin had got the point, though, and said not another word that day.

However, exactly one minute later, another voice spoke up, this one nearly identical to Robin's, except its tone was slightly softer and possessed a shyness that was nonexistent in Robin's personality.

"Father?"

"Yes, Gale?"

"Are we there yet?"

"All right, that's _it!_"

Matthew spun on his heels to face his wayward sons, his face the very embodiment of wrath. Gale and Robin laughed, and, evading their Matthew's attempts to grab them, ran forward a few yards, where their mother could see them and their father could not run to get them. Lark, the smallest daughter, squealed joyfully and tried to run after them, but Wren, ever the dutiful older sister, held Lark's paw firmly to keep the Dibbun by her side.

"Haha, those two are just bound and determined to make trouble, aren't they?" Wren turned her head to see Milfoil and Kenzie Farsight, who had been marching next to her and had witnessed the whole exchange. Kenzie had made the observation…Milfoil was still laughing a bit too hard to say anything.

"Aye, that they are." The pretty mousemaid smiled; the two female Sentinels had been very kind to her and her family, and it was a welcome diversion to talk to them. "They say they're descendants of Gonff the Mousethief, by spirit if not by blood, and they have a family legacy to uphold."

"That explains a lot," sniggered Milfoil. Kenzie snorted humorously to indicate she agreed.

Carefully, so that she remained in step with the others, Wren sidled over to walk next to her friends, leaving Lark with her parents. "So," she said quietly, with a mischievous smile on her face that she rarely allowed her brothers to see, "are we there yet?"

Milfoil giggled helplessly, caught off guard by the repetitive nature of the joke. Kenzie chuckled for a few seconds, but, understanding what Wren was really asking, answered her frankly…though, with a huge grin on her face that was incongruous with the serious tone of her voice.

"No, but we ought to be there soon. We've been marching for half a day, and we've already made it halfway through what would be the foothills here. The coast is probably only a few days' journey, at most."

"At _least_, ya mean," muttered a sullen voice from behind them. All three maidens looked back, to behold Chickweed, the unruly archer who had been disqualified from the archery competition at Redwall.

The tall otter was, unfortunately, one of the last males left in their group. Sue conversion had taken away many of the other males; since most Sues were female, and most "conversion" tactics were connected with soppy romance, the Sue-spell affected males most strongly. Chickweed had been spared simply because he was too ornery to fall in love with anybeast, especially since, at the time of the battle, he had been too angry at losing the competition to think of anything else. His attitude hadn't changed much since.

When Kenzie, Milfoil, and Wren, looked back at him, he met their gaze with a nasty glare. "It's _bound_ to take longer," he continued, "'specially when we're being led by _them_." His gaze turned hatefully toward each and every one of the Sentinel officers, especially the Squirrel Brothers and Bren Sprakenwulf.

Wren did not like where this was going, but she felt compelled to defend her friends. "And what, pray tell, are the officers doing wrong?" she asked, using the no-nonsense voice she used when speaking to naughty Dibbuns.

He met her gaze with a self-righteous sneer, unfazed by her contempt. "What're they doing wrong, missy? Just look around! The Sentinels used t'be proud! And _now_ lookit us: outnumbered, poorly fed, badly rested, and running from stupid, pathetic enemies! We could have taken those Sue-scum down without a hitch if they'd 'a just killed their leader and got it over with! But no! Those puffed-up, over-cautious, justice-hating vermin lovers had to wait until they outnumbered us to make any move at all!"

Kenzie bristled; as a ratmaid in a predominantly woodlander organization, she had to deal with a lot of flak. Apparently she had taken enough. Halting abruptly, she spun around and shoved her bespectacled face into Chickweed's.

"Vermin lovers?" she demanded indignantly. "You're blaming all of this on vermin!?"

"Kenz…" said Milfoil pleadingly, a nervous expression developing in the squirrelmaid's eyes.

"No, Milfoil! I want to hear this! Tell me, wise guy, what do vermin have to do with any of this?" The ratmaid crossed her paws, glaring expectantly at Chickweed. "C'mon, tell me! We haven't got all day!"

Wren was uncomfortably aware of the many eyes that were on them now. Chickweed, in his tirade, had swiftly begun yelling; Kenzie had practically screamed at him in reply. There was not one beast who had not heard them…nor was there any beast who had not stopped to watch the proceedings.

Chickweed, however, was completely oblivious to the unwanted attention he was getting. He spat on the ground near Kenzie's footpaw, and shoved his face right in front of hers. "Yah, shaddup, rat-whore! You an' your kind brought the Sues down on us in the first place! It's a curse, sent down on Mossflower because we let trash like you in with the likes of us! Ain't that right, cullies?"

The otter's closest friends, a tough-looking squirrel and a brawny ottermaid, seemed to agree, although they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. A few other beasts murmured in reply, but not in agreement…the Sentinels had dealt with interspecies mingling since the army had been founded, and pretty much all of the woodlander members had learned to get along with those Sentinels of 'vermin' species. Most of the woodlanders looked scandalized now to think that one of their own could foster such hatred. The 'vermin' generally looked angry.

Chickweed didn't even falter when not one of his companions backed him up. "It's beasts like them, like Lilac and them squirrels and _all_ of 'em, who are stupid enough to think that vermin are equal to us, that's caused all this! If they were smart, they'd a kicked out that damn wolf, and everybeast else of your ilk, before it was too late! Those Sues could've been easy to get rid of! They still are! But no! We have to run and hide, all because of those _idiots_ who call themselves officers!"

Silence fell throughout the camp, as Chickweed stopped yelling and glared back at Kenzie. Wren was the only one not staring at him…she was looking at Lilac Blacktip and Mattia the Dart, who were trying to restrain Bren Sprakenwulf from disemboweling Chickweed on the spot and being dragged through the still lines of Sentinels for their trouble.

However, before Bren could reach the errant archer, Kenzie spoke up again…this time quietly. "So, let me get this straight. You think you know more about Sues than anybeast else? You think you could do better?"

"I _know_ I could do better." Chickweed sneered at her, and bent his head to spit again.

Before he could bring his head up, the ratmaid's fist connected with his abdomen, and he bent over, clutching his stomach in pain. Kenzie then brought her knee up to collide with his chin, and Chickweed fell backwards to hit the ground. Before he could get up again, Kenzie sat upon his chest, her knees driven into the sensitive nerves of his armpits to keep his arms from moving, her paws around his neck, not strangling him, but making it rather hard for him to speak.

Everybeast moved forward to see the fight, but there was no fight to see. Milfoil and the weaselmaid Rillame managed to keep Chickweed's friends back when they tried to defend him, but, other than that, the scene remained acridly still.

"You know _nothing_ about Sues!" hissed Kenzie into Chickweed's face, with a violent, mocking smile that was deceptively calm. "But _I_ know them quite well, much better than I'd like to. I've had dealings with Sue-scum before and I'd rather face an entire enemy horde myself than risk being transformed by even one of them. Their very presence opens black portals that lead to eternal nothingness. They have their disgusting Sparklypoo powers that turn everything and _everybeast_ they touch into one of _them._ You call _that_ easy to defeat?"

"Not one of 'em would be alive," gurgled Chickweed stubbornly, "if'n it weren't fer _you!_"

"Alive?" The ratmaid laughed humorlessly. "Sue-scum don't live. They just…are. They're the _true_ vermin of this world, capable of wiping our minds of coherent, realistic thought. The only things that even come close to being as bad as them are stupid, mindless nitwits like you, who haven't any coherent, realistic thoughts to be wiped from your minds in the first place."

Kenzie squeezed Chickweed's throat viciously, and then stood up, allowing him to do the same. The otter coughed and sputtered, clutching his neck, and got to his footpaws slowly. However, he was not one to let his foe have the last word…after he had stood for a few seconds, he glared at the ratmaid.

"This isn't over, trollop," he spat.

"Oh yes, it is." Lilac came between the two arguers, her paws on her hips and her black-tipped ears rigid with suppressed anger. "I'm ashamed of you both. Sentinel should not raise paw against Sentinel…we have enough trouble already from everything else."

"But he…"

"No buts, Kenzie. I know what he said…_everybeast_ knows what he said…but we cannot fight among ourselves or we will not _need_ Sues to destroy us. Do I make myself clear?"

The ratmaid stared back at her, her paws clenched from the injustice of it all. "Crystal clear, Lilac," she answered frigidly.

"Good," replied the hare, her eyes twinkling with more than a bit of sympathy for the spirited trainee. "And you," she said, turning to Chickweed.

The otter swallowed, and hoped he would be let off with a warning, like Kenzie.

No such luck. Lilac was perfectly livid.

"I haven't time to give you the proper dressing-down for what you've done today, so I'm going to make this quick. First, while we march today, you are to apologize to _every, single, beast_ whom you deem to be vermin, starting with Miss Farsight here and going right on up to Officer Sprakenwulf."

Chickweed gulped, and chanced a glance toward Sprakenwulf. Although she had calmed down a bit by now, due to Mattia's ingenious suggestion of the young otter's punishment, she still didn't look to be in a particularly forgiving mood.

"Second, as you are apologizing, you are to stay up with the rest of us as we march. If you so much as fall behind one step, you will soon be eating our dust, because we will leave you to find Salamandastron on your own." Those who knew Lilac knew she would never leave Chickweed behind to fend for himself, no matter what he had done. However, Chickweed had never respected Lilac enough to get to know her; he was fooled by her serious demeanor and her anger, and he was scared out of his mind.

"Third, once you are done apologizing, you are to report to Snaggletooth for kitchen and dirty pots duty. You will not complain as you do so, because he has my personal permission to take any complaints out of your miserable hide." The old rat cook leered, exposing his many missing teeth, and waved his ladle eagerly at Chickweed.

"And then, after you are done with kitchen duties, you are to report to my tent, where I will judge whether or not you have learned from your punishment and are fit to remain in the Sentinels. Do you understand?"

Chickweed's eyes met Lilac's, and then flicked away; her gaze was too intense and too angry to be contended with. "Yes'm"

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. Sentinels, march!"

Lilac turned on her heel, and marched with a swift pace up to the head of the line. The others fell in behind her; the scene was over, and Lilac's orders were final.

Chickweed scowled, and moved up next to Kenzie. "Sorry," he grumbled sullenly.

"I doubt it," she muttered, without deigning to look at him.

The otter rolled his eyes, and did not argue the point; he had not expected forgiveness, nor did he think he needed any. He dropped behind a bit to talk to Rillame, who was marching in the back rank as a rear guard.

Once he was gone, Milfoil put a comforting arm around her friend's shoulder. "Well, that went well."

Kenzie smiled. "Oh, you're just saying that."

"Yup." The squirrelmaid grinned. Kenzie stuck an impudent tongue out at her, and Milfoil cheerfully mirrored the gesture.

Wren laughed. "Well, I can say this, Kenzie: if all 'vermin' can fight like you, then I hope we have a lot more on our side."

The ratmaid winked. "We do…trust me."

Curious, the mousemaid opened her mouth to ask what Kenzie meant…but the conversation never got any further. From the back ranks of Sentinels, Rillame's voice echoed urgently in everybeast's ears.

"Flock o' birds comin' this way from the east! Dunno what their species is, but they look purple!"

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**Oh, I'm positively evil, ending this with that cliffie. I'm sorry! Consider it a promise that this thing will be continued, however...I can't let myself leave a story at a place like _that_ for very long. Read and Review, please.**


	20. Chapter 19

**Paths Crossing: Yes, I did, and look, I'm updating again. Cool, huh? ;) Yeah, I like cloudy mountains too, but I wanted to paint just how impossible these mountains are. Sorry.**

**Lilac: Thank you very much, I'm glad I did well. Don't procrastinate in revising, though; I really want to read that book when it comes out.**

**storiewriter: Is this quick? I hope so. Sorry, cliffhanger won't be resolved *just* yet. If you think *I'm* bad, then Brian Jacques is worse, I assure you. I think the Marshank scene lasted about three chapters...um, anyway, Kalyn *will* be there soon. I *think* I asked your permission to put her in here, but that was so long ago that I've forgotten.**

**Oreramar: Indeed. Fight scene, sweet. But not yet... Don't worry about MMSS, I'm patient (heck, I'm *dying* to get this entire story out, and look how long I've taken in doing so). And, like I said to storiewriter, I *think* I already asked your permission...so Aelin's already there. Correct me if I'm wrong.**

**Kelaiah: Yay, confetti! Ah, but you're wrong to assume I'm not that cruel...the pink fluffy ones are always the cruelest. *evil snicker* Did I ask you if you wanted to appear here? I *think* I did, but, well, I'm getting repetitive, so just answer yes or no. I know you wanted to take a break, considering Adderstar's fic and all... But Snowflower's back!**

**Adderstar: ...I think I love you too. Platonically of course. Do update Revenge of the Three and I'll platonically love you even more. *snerk, giggle* I'm glad I got Kenzie right...and the quote too. Thank you very much for your contribution.**

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Chapter Nineteen

As she trudged across foothills that were flattening even as she crossed them, Snowflower was quite sure she had never felt so frustrated in all of her life. For one thing, the environment was now nearly impossible to live with. In the heat of the mid-Sue-spring sun, her winter garments had become positively boiling hot; she was sweating so profusely that she feared either a quick death of heat stroke or a long death of dehydration. And, of course, there were several other small details, like, say, the fact that her life had fallen apart around her ears, that her friends were far away (or turned, but she refused to think about that option), and that, at least for now, she was placing her trust in two mice who seemed to stand against everything she was fighting for.

Said mice were currently walking several yards in front of her; Rano at Korren's left, silent as the grave except for a few whispered exchanges that they did not deign to share with her. They were probably talking about her…scratch that, they _were_ talking about her, judging from the glances of worry and distrust Rano kept throwing over his shoulder. Evidently the scarred little harvest mouse had not yet mastered the art of being subtle. No matter. His companion was subtle enough for the both of them, Stu that he was.

Over the past few monotonous hours, several murderous impulses had come sporadically to her very angry mind as she fumed silently at her companions. Most of them weren't very smart once she thought them through, but whenever she beat one down, another would pop up in its place, and the cycle would continue until she was back to the first impulse. Her state of mind could be judged by a small sampling of the things going through her head.

_Impulse number one: whip out bow and shoot melodramatic fieldmouse in back. Proceed to finish him off, beat harvest mouse back to his senses if at all possible, and make for Salamandastron._

That one wouldn't work. Her bow was unstrung to make it easier to carry; to re-string it, she had to step on the bow and bend it so that she could attach the string to it tightly. Thus, preparing her bow required at least one footpaw, and both footpaws were occupied in walking at the moment. If she lagged behind, Korren and Rano would notice, and discover her intentions.

_Impulse number two: whip out dagger and stab stupid Stu-fink in back. Proceed to follow ending procedure for impulse number one._

She doubted that idea would work either. If Korren was a Stu…and she had little doubt that he was…then he would hear her coming and dodge before she could stab him. In the fight that would inevitably ensue, she would have lost the element of surprise, which was all she had going against him. With his stronger build, bigger blades, and greater experience in paw-to-paw combat, he would defeat her in a few swipes, without even counting his overall Stu-ness.

_Impulse number three: whip out dagger while nonsensical idiot is asleep._

That, in any normal circumstances, wouldn't be a bad idea. However, this was not a normal circumstance. Snowflower had only seen Korren sleep once, and that was when all of them were exhausted and she hadn't yet revealed any suspicions about his true nature. She hadn't been a threat to him then. Now that her deduction was out in the open, he would sleep only when Rano was awake to watch his back. Though she was taller than the harvest mouse, he was also stronger than she, and he probably had some pretty fierce Borderland fighting tactics stowed up his sleeve. She wanted to avoid a fight with him almost as much as she wanted to avoid one with Korren.

_Impulse number four: run. Run away as fast as you can and hope to outrun them both._

The mousemaid clung to this idea, as it seemed to be the most sensible in her situation. She couldn't stay with these mice, not now…she couldn't trust Korren not to turn her in her sleep, nor could she count on Rano to protect her from his companion. She wouldn't be able to best either one of them in a fight, much less both of them, so she had to run, that very night if possible. The question was: how would she get away?

Her musings were abruptly halted when she ran into Korren's back, having been too busy thinking to notice that her companions had stopped in their tracks. The mousemaid fell back on her bottom, feeling like she had hit a brick wall. The big fieldmouse whirled around, and instinctively offered a gloved paw to help her up, but she scooted away from him, a look of disgust written all over her spotted face.

"Don't _touch_ me!" she snarled, baring her teeth.

Korren hesitated a moment, and then straightened, as emotionless as a stone. Rano, however, very nearly returned the snarl. "Fine then," he hissed, "sit where ye are! 'S'no better'n ye deserve, ungrateful wench!"

"Ungrateful? Last I checked I didn't owe anything to you _or_ your pal, Sue-lover!" the mousemaid grunted as she got to her footpaws.

"Really? What about th'fact that we rescued ye from that powderpuff, took care o'ye when ye fainted, an' got ye through that storm two days ago? Ye call _that_ nothin'?"

"I do! I'm _not_ helpless. I could've got along quite well without either of you."

The harvest mouse scoffed, and folded his arms. "Oh, o'course ye could've, lassie," he sneered, making no attempt to disguise his sarcasm. "After growin' up soft an' gentle-like in yer precious Abbey, not havin' a care in the world, oh aye, you were prepared for anythin'. I'd be surprised if ye made two steps without whinin' and cryin' fer yer mama."

Snowflower bristled, and unconsciously clenched her paws into fists. "How dare you!" she shouted. "You know _nothing_ about me, you spineless toad!"

"Well I kin guess quite a bit, snivelin' harpy!" Rano belligerently lifted his chin to look straight into the mousemaid's eyes, his paws also tightening in preparation for a fight.

"Ach! Will you two hauld yer wheesht fer just one moment?" Korren rarely spoke, and when he did, it was hardly above a murmur. When he yelled, as he did now, it was impressive enough to shock the other two mice into silence, if only temporarily.

The fieldmouse stood a few paces away from them, impressive in his mystery…which, miraculously, was not diminished in the least by the garishly purple garments that he wore, courtesy of the Sue rain. Now that he had their attention, his voice returned to its normal low cadence. "Much's a fight'd be welcome about now, I doubt it'd help much against _them_." He jerked a paw over his shoulder, to the sight that had caused him and Rano to stop short in the first place.

Snowflower followed his paw to see what he was talking about, and her mouth fell open in disbelief. The mountains had grown several miles taller than when she last saw them; they reached up into the sky, their peaks hidden by their sheer height rather than by clouds. She hadn't noticed them before, but there was no getting them out of her mind now, no matter how dangerous her companions proved to be.

"Great seasons," she muttered. "How in the name of fur are we going to get across those monsters?"

Korren had the nerve to sound ironic. "Dunno, lass, but I doubt that fightin's goin' t'get us very far. Right, Rano?"

The harvest mouse grumbled something unintelligible.

"I said, _right_, _Rano_?"

"Right." Rano's tone bore some resemblance to that of a reprimanded, unrepentant Dibbun, but it was enough for Korren.

"Good. We still 'ave about half a day's daylight. P'raps we kin get a good start before turnin' in fer the night."

The big fieldmouse turned, and stalked off toward the atrocities that did not deserve to be called mountains. Rano followed, only pausing long enough to cast a nasty glance in Snowflower's direction before coming up to Korren's side like a trained dog.

The fieldmouse-maid fumed as she walked. Rano's words still stung, to the point that she wanted to scratch away what was left of his fur every time she looked at him. That settled it. To Hellgates with the question of _how_ she was going to do it; when they went to sleep that night, she was running away. And she was taking _her_ haversack, which contained all they had left for rations, with her.

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Several hours later, a lavender moon rose in the vast expanse of a black-bluish-plum-colored sky filled with twinkling little pastel-purple stars. Snowflower didn't bother to look at the scenery, however (not that she would have missed much). Although he was indeed a sound sleeper, Rano took a long time to fall asleep; she wasn't going to miss her window for escape. As soon as she heard soft snores coming from under the harvest mouse's cloak, she went into action.

Korren sat with his back to her, having taken the first watch of the night, as usual. Keeping a wary eye on him, the mousemaid slowly pushed her cloak off of her, striving to remain silent. He didn't give any indication that he had heard.

She climbed to her footpaws with the same care. Still he did not hear her.

She bent to pick up the cloak, growing a bit more confident now that she had managed to evade his notice. The treacherous Sue-grass, however, had other plans. It rustled as she gingerly gathered the cloak, and, to her, the sound seemed so loud as to echo around the canyon walls. She halted, holding her breath, hoping that Korren didn't notice.

"On yer way then?" he said softly, without turning around.

The mousemaid bit back a curse. Of course he had noticed. He was a Stu, for crying out loud. What else had she expected?

"'S'all right, lass. 'Tisn't as if ye're th'first t'leave us. Ye're free t'go."

For a moment, she was astonished at how sad he sounded, even though he tried to hide it behind a veil of indifference. Weren't Stus always supposed to be happy? But she quickly quashed that idea…of course they weren't always happy, because otherwise they couldn't be beautifully tragic. It was just a trick to get her to stay.

In fact, letting her go could be a trick to make her stay. He was probably trying to entice her with his "nobility," so that she would feel heartbroken and remain with him. Well, it wasn't going to work, and she was going to let him know that.

"So…that's it? You aren't going to chase me, or persuade me to stay here?"

Korren snorted. "O'course not. What'd ye think ye were, our pris'ner?"

_Uh, yeah,_ her mind supplied, though she did not speak out loud. _Think often, genius?_

The hooded mouse sighed. "Ye were free t'leave as soon's we left Mossflower. There's nobeast that's sayin' ye need t'stay."

_Could he be any thicker if he tried? I've already let him know that that approach is not working. _"All right then," she answered quickly, and relievedly, "I'll go." She bent again, and grabbed her cloak, but before she could put it on his voice interrupted her.

"Ye didn't grow up in Redwall, did ye?" His head turned just a bit, so that she could see the outline of his finely sculpted face.

The mousemaid stopped, her curiosity aroused by his odd, off-topic statement. "No," she said slowly. He already knew he was right…she supposed there was no harm in confirming his logic. "I didn't."

"Thought not." With that, he faced away from the camp once more, satisfied by her answer.

Snowflower, however, wasn't about to let him off the hook with that fragment of a conversation. If he could determine that one small detail, who knew what else he knew about her?

"How did you know?"

The big fieldmouse hesitated. "Oh…I'd just guessed," he answered finally, imitating an air of nonchalance.

"Right. You 'just guessed.' No, really, how did you know?"

He winced. "Well, lass, ye acted somewhat peeved when Larkspur accused ye o'growin' up in th'Abbey. Sorry about that, by th'way. Rano was only angry, he didn't mean it."

He wanted her to change the subject, but that wasn't happening. "Well, that could have just meant I was angry because he was calling Abbeybeasts soft. There had to be something else that gave me away."

"Well," he started, swallowing heavily, "there're two things that I noticed. Fer one, ye have an accent that sounds like Redwall, but not _all_ like Redwall; it's a very wee bit northern, if ye ask me. And then there's yer bow, lass. Ye dyed yer mark into it…two white flowers on either side o'the paw grip, each with five petals. I've seen marks like it before, up in the mouse tribes on the flatlands below Noonvale and th'surroundin' forest…it's t'let those without learnin' know whose weapon it is. Am I right?"

The information about her bow stunned her. _How did he know that?_ From the little she had heard, Sues rarely knew much about the traditional customs of the universes they invaded. Usually, they just made up their own culture without any regard for the beasts already living there. The fact that Korren knew this trivial little fact about her native country could mean…

"I'm sorry, lass…"

"No…you, you've _been_ there? To the northern flatlands?"

He hesitated again, and when he spoke, he sounded just a tad bit nervous. "Aye, I've been all o'er th'place in th'north. Bus'ness an' all that…"

_Oh, no! Not Noonvale!_

"And the situation there? Was it like here?" She could barely keep back the fright in her voice…if both Redwall and Noonvale were under the Sues' control, what hope could the rest of the world have?

At the very least, he was making an effort to sound honest. He was nearly facing her now…as much as he _could_ face her, without having any face to see under his hood. "Well, when I left there, it was considerably better'n this place. There were a lot o'puffballs turnin' up...many tribes of Juska had raided the flatlands, killin' an' slaughterin'…"

Uninvited images flooded Snowflower's mind: fires in the little village by the Eastern Sea; the chief slain with his own sword, his brown-eyed son taken in chains; her father falling, his bow broken and his heart pierced with a vermin arrow…

"I know about that," she snapped, more at herself than at Korren, "but about the Sues?"

"I was _gettin'_ t'that," the fieldmouse said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Anyhow, the refugees were feelin' particularly vengeful, an' the Sues made it easy to get vengeance, so that was th'problem. But, none got into Noonvale, or th'north'd be as bad as here. I suspect the lady Laterose had somethin' t'do with it."

"Of course she did," the mousemaid replied, her mind going to the little pouch of rose petals in her haversack. _Thank Heaven. Thank you, Rose._

There was no further need to continue the conversation, so she let it drop. She donned her cloak and began gathering her weapons, as her hooded rescuer watched silently. Unexpectedly, the sting of Rano's words earlier that day returned to her.

"Despite what you think, I'm _not_ ungrateful for what you and your friend have done for me."

"I ne'er said I thought that. Rano didn't mean it either. He's just on edge. We all are."

"Well, removing my presence will fix that." Then, a thought came to her…she couldn't just leave them to starve. It was one thing to sneak away in the night with all the food. It was quite another to look a creature she was sentencing to starvation in the face…so to speak…as she did so. "Do you think you'll need any provisions?"

"I'll do fine without. Rano, howe'er…"

Of course. Rano was still normal. "I'll leave your water flasks and cordials for him, along with some of my rations. It ought to hold him for a few days."

She felt guilty now. What would her friends think of her, leaving somebeast without food in this poisonous land? The thought of it felt horrible now…she wanted to make up for it by leaving at least half of the rations. It was only fair. However, that hope was soon dashed as she hefted the haversack in her paw, and felt that it was light…far too light.

"It's gone," she whispered.

"Ye mean we've eaten it all already? I _told_ Larkspur t'take it easy…"

"No, I mean the sack is empty. Everything's gone, the food, the flasks, my rose pouch and dress…everything."

In a twinkling, Korren was on his footpaws and examining the haversack himself. "Hmm," he muttered, sniffing at it, as the mousemaid got to her knees and began readying her bow. "Seems like we've had a vis'tor. Weasel, from the smell of it…an' a powderpuff too, it seems."

Snowflower looked up quizzically. "If it was a Sue, then wouldn't you have sensed it?"

"Depends. Some kin hide from me if they want to. Normal beasties kin't hide from me, but the sparkly ones kin. Larkspur, stir yer stumps!"

The harvest mouse twitched, and his eyelids fluttered, but apparently he was still asleep. "Pick any color ye want, Moira darlin'…ye look good in everythin'…"

Korren sighed, but then did something that surprised her into laughing, despite herself. "Ach, I'm glad ye think sah, Rano sweetie," he said, leaning close to his friend's ear and mimicking a high-pitched female voice, "but th'simple fact is that I _dumped yer sorry tail fer a quill-pusher!_"

Rano didn't even stir as his friend squealed right into his ear. "I _know_ that, Moira, but drat it, this dream was just gettin' good when my evil sleep-hatin' leech of a partner decided to wake me up, like 'e _always_ does."

The fieldmouse snorted. "Just wake up Rano! We haven't much time!"

"No. I'm stayin' here 'til Moira an' I are married."

Snowflower held her sides, trying not to die from excessive merriment. Korren ignored her, and gathered up his own things. "Fine, then. I guess it doesn't matter that some powderpuff 'as made off with all our food, water, an' that biscuit ye hated sah much…"

"What!" The harvest mouse was up in a flash, buckling his belt and sheathing his sword and dagger before Korren could say another word. "That demon was _mine!_ I'll not be lettin' any sparkly-furred, pudden-faced, stupid-headed freak o'nature take th'pleasure o'killin' it! Where is the bloody idjit, I'll _kill_ 'im!"

"Not if I get to him first," said the mousemaid, nocking an arrow to her bowstring. Rano growled at her in return…he still held a grudge against her. Not that she could blame him…

"Simmer down, you two," said Korren. "We 'ave to find it first, and, by the looks o'things…" he muttered, studying the ground with a practiced eye, "he wasn't here too long ago. We'll need ta hurry t'catch 'im, though."

"What're we waitin' fer, then?" Rano said, following the tracks into the purple woods with a grim paw on his dagger. "I'm lookin' forward t'spittin' this 'un."

Korren watched his friend for a moment, shaking his head, before speaking up. "Oy, Rano!"

"Aye?"

"It went _that_ way."

"Oh." The harvest mouse followed his friend's paw (which was pointing to the opposite direction to the one he had taken) with bleary eyes, and promptly changed course. "I knew that."

As Rano walked on, muttering darkly, the funny side of the situation dawned once more upon Snowflower. She pressed a paw to her mouth and chuckled silently…and then looked up to find that Korren was doing the same. For a moment, they simply looked at each other and, to her surprise and disgust, Snowflower felt a slight blush climbing to her cheeks.

Suddenly glad that it was nighttime and he couldn't see her very well, she nodded after Rano, indicating that Korren should go ahead of her, since he was the tracker. He took the hint and she found herself following him once more. Angrily, Snowflower shook herself back to her senses. She couldn't afford to let him trick her into liking him, not for a moment.

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**"Beautifully tragic" is an unintentional _Wicked_ reference. I don't know how it got there, but it got there, and it worked there, so meh, I'm keeping it. Now to figure out how to write about aerial battles...**


	21. Chapter 20

**The Crazili Obsessed: Korren isn't offended in the least. Rano has always been more popular with the ladies...the only thing that bothers him is that Rano has a terrible habit of gloating. (Korren: Wipe that smile off yer wee ugly face, Larkspur, or so 'elp me...) Now Korren, be nice. Hem, anyway, all shall be explained...eventually...and I'm glad you like Snowflower.**

**Paths Crossing: Yes, all the purple is starting to make me angry too. Don't worry, a lot - and I do mean A LOT - of Sues are somehow eliminated in this chapter. But I can't say any more about it until later, sorry.**

**Jarrtail: Thank you for all of the reviews, and for your alter ego. And yes, you shall hear the full story about Moira sometime, but probably not in this story. I'm glad you liked my descriptions.**

**Kelaiah: The blue dress is going to make an appearance soon...though, it probably won't be what you expect. And yes, Noonvale's safe. About the "dog" thing, though: in Redwall, Methuselah references a dog, although it's a town dog, so it was probably one of those mistakes BJ made before he figured out the series. I think the comment was in the realm of Sister May saying she could lay a horse out flat: the Redwallers may think the animals don't exist, but the words convey the image they want to get across. And that made absolutely no sense at all...darn it.**

**Lilac: Sorry if I threw you off. Korren and Rano never really got to interact on your site, so I'm still working out their relationship. I'll try to make it less confusing...**

**storiewriter: Thank you for the first review. I'm glad you liked my last update...here's the next one you were thirsting for. Hope you and Oreramar like it...for reasons which shall become apparent soon...**

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_**Chapter Twenty**_

"_Flock o' birds comin' this way from the east! Dunno what their species is, but they look purple!"_

The warning came too late for the Sentinels to retaliate. The birds, which Mattia's keen eyes identified as sparrows, were only half a league away and gaining quickly. The Squirrel Brothers had just enough time to bark a few orders to their archers before the true nature of their enemies hit them.

Before they came in range of the arrows, the Sues began to sing. It was not one of the Sparra war-songs, which the birds would chant up in the roof spaces every time they got in a violent mood. No, this song was strange and otherworldly, and the sparrows sang in beautiful, unforgettable voices that immediately branded themselves on a creature's mind.

_Oh what a beautiful morning!  
__Oh what a beautiful day!  
__I've got a beautiful feeling,  
__Everything's going my way!_

The hares, being the first to hear the song at that distance, were thus the first to feel its full effects. Mattia sat clumsily down on the ground, holding her head; Quirky's eyelids flickered, and then his face broke out into a big silly smile, as he began to sing and dance while Isaac gaped at him in helpless horror. Lilac resisted the longest, her whole body twitching, as her mind fought to overcome the influence that was taking over.

Ravenblade the warrior officer shook his leader's shoulder. "Lilac, Lilac, what's wrong?"

The hare shuddered. "Purdy music…help! No…me likes der purdy music…NO!" Lilac dropped her rapier and dropped to her knees, smashing her paws over her long ears. "Cover your ears!" she bellowed. "Cover your ears!"

Those who had not already succumbed to the treacherous song immediately obeyed, some of them releasing their weapons to do so. Most creatures kneeled as well, to let the birds fly over their heads.

The otters, however, had one advantage over the enemy. Their ears could clamp shut without any aid whatsoever, which prevented them from getting water in their ears when swimming. For a situation like this, that ability meant they could block the song from their ears without relinquishing their weapons.

"Mossfloweeeeeer!" cried Falcir the Silent, using this capability to his advantage as he rushed into the oncoming birds with his sword spinning.

Riana, the ottermaid officer from the Highlands, quickly followed suit. "Hawaaaaay the Braaaaaaw!" The remaining otters charged behind her, yelling their battle cries as they fought to defend their friends.

The Sues, however, did not panic. They kept singing their song, and dodged away from the warriors' weapons. Landing at random intervals within the ranks, the birds would engage in battle with the Sentinels, and then take off again when they started losing the fight or when they had managed to overcome a few of the defenders' minds. Soon, Sentinel was fighting Sentinel once again, and the slippery sparrows were still avoiding death.

One large bird, a lavender-feathered creature with a deep bass voice, landed right in front of Mavren. The big hedgehog glared at the Sue, placing himself right between the beast and the three treasures he cherished most: his wife, his best friend's family, and the Tapestry.

The Sue Sparra smiled, and simply added more force to the song, aided by a squadron of his best fighters who seemed to pop out of nowhere.

_Oh what a beautiful morning…_

The hedgehog gritted his teeth, and took a tighter grip on the Sword. Sending a swift prayer to Martin the Warrior, he willed his limbs to move forward, even though the Sue-song was telling him to stand still.

_Oh what a beautiful day…_

For the first time that morning, the sparrows developed something akin to panic in their jewel-encrusted eyes, as they watched the hedgehog fight their influence with sheer willpower. They sang the song louder, and all around them, some beasts succumbed to the song despite their efforts to prevent it, and started to sing with them.

_I've got a beautiful feeling…_

By now, Mavren hardly even heard the song. His warrior spirit was aroused. Everything he could see was red; his ears were filled with the rush of his own blood pumping through his arteries, and the sound of a strong voice saying the same thing over and over again. _The warrior of the voice…the warrior of the voice…the warrior of the voice…_

_EVERYTHING'S GOING MY WAY!_

"Not this time," snarled the hedgehog. With a mighty heave, he swung the blade toward the lead singer, who ducked, but immediately stopped singing. All obstacles to the complete use of his mental faculties now eliminated, the hedgehog roared out his answer to the Sue-song.

"REDWAAAAAAAAAAAALL!"

The sparrows scattered a few feet away, and, timidly, tried to start up the song again, but Mavren didn't let them. "REEEEEEDWAAAAAAAAAAALL!"

"MOSSFLOWEEEEEEEEER!" cried Lilac, catching onto the scheme and snatching up her rapier. She ran toward the nearest Sue, yelling incoherently as she slashed it with her blade. "MOSSFLOWEEEEEEEEER!" she shouted again, taking only a moment to draw breath. It was working. She couldn't hear the song over the sound of her own voice.

"GAWTRYYYYYYYYBE!" yelled the Squirrel Brothers, even Curltail, who broke a ten-season run of not speaking as he did so. Nocking arrows to their bowstrings, the brothers sent a volley into the swirling flock of birds, encouraging the rest of the archers to do the same. None of the shafts made a direct kill, unfortunately, but on occasion a sparrow took an arrow to the knee or to the wing and fell to the ground.

These unlucky birds were set upon by those bearing melee weapons, and by an angry fox-wolf who was not averse to tearing out entrails with her bare claws. Lilac, Strongpaw, Treebreeze, and the rest of the Sentinel Officers seemed to be everywhere at once, shouting orders and battle cries almost in the same breath.

"EULALIAAAAAAAA!" yelled Isaac, as he rushed over to where Quirky was still trying to dance to the sparrow's now-feeble song.

"Come on, Quirks," he said, shaking the hare roughly. "Wake up!" Finally, out of desperation, he grabbed the hare's shirt with his left paw, the other paw being used to hold his broadsword. Hefting his friend two feet into the air, the young badger then proceeded to throw him back to the ground, hoping to jolt the hare back into consciousness.

"Der pretty…eh…wot?" Quirky blinked, and, seeing the chaos that raged around them, stared in confusion back at Isaac.

The badger did not mince words. "Find the Recorder twins, they've run off. Look after them, will you?" And, with another battle cry, Isaac dived into a group of sparrows who scattered with angry (but beautiful!) squawks.

"Heh, easier said than done, laddie buck," Quirky muttered, wondering why the blazes Isaac hadn't gone after the twins himself. One look at the young badger's bloodshot eyes would have provided his answer, but the hare had not noticed that detail.

Quirky looked about, huffing in frustration. He had dropped his own sword when he had started dancing, and from the looks of things he wasn't going to get it back. However, he did find Gale and Robin, who were looking for any promising sticks or stones which they could use as weapons. Quirky put himself between the young mice and the main body of the battle, searching frantically for an idea.

"MOSSFLOWEEEEEEER!"

Mattia the Dart provided that idea. She was in a similar situation; not trusting the accuracy of her darts in the confusion, she had decided upon a more mobile form of fighting. Calmly, she waited until a sparrow flew just close enough for her to reach. Then, she leaped powerfully at it, grabbing it and bringing it to the ground. Within a heartbeat, she stabbed the sparrow with one of her darts…Quirky could not see whether it was a lethal dart or a sleep-inducing one, but it certainly made the bird go limp.

Taking a page out of her book, the younger hare waited. He was in luck…Milfoil and Kenzie dispersed a nearby cluster of Sues, causing a few birds to flee in his direction. Bunching up his leg muscles, Quirky hurled his body into the air. "EULALIAAAAAA!" He came back down with what looked like flustered mass of heliotrope feathers. However, he was at a loss with what to do with it.

Gale and Robin weren't. The two young mice jumped on the Sue's back and began pummeling it with the rocks they had gathered.

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The battle raged on for about half an hour, although it felt a lot longer than that. The Sues just seemed to have no limit to their army…which was understandable, because the Sparraking ruled over thousands of sparrows, not just in Redwall, but in the entire surrounding area. There was no running from them, because the enemy could fly; there was no hiding from them, because, thanks to the newly flattened foothills, there was nowhere to hide. And fighting them was beginning to look like a plan for failure as well…despite their most valiant efforts, the guileful Sues had managed to pry the best warriors away from their treasured artifact.

One troupe of twenty sparrows had gathered around the Tapestry, hoping to lift it. However, they had overlooked one slight detail…namely, the young hogwife who was doggedly sitting on the fabric to prevent them from taking it.

"Get her off!" shouted the deputy in charge of the mission. The group then proceeded to pounce on her, extending their claws in preparation for the kill.

They met with a painful surprise. Taking great care not to fold up too tightly, for her unborn child's sake, Lily nevertheless became a nearly impenetrable ball of needle-sharp spines. Had the enemies been any other type of bird, they might have injured her. As it was, the sparrows' relatively short beaks and claws couldn't get to her skin before other, pain-feeling parts of their bodies were pricked by her long quills.

Treebreeze Swiftarrow came quickly to Lily's help. The brown squirrelmaid had a dirk in one paw and a small crossbow in the other, firing arrows at the birds that were far away from the hogwife and slashing at the ones closer in. She was joined by Darkfur, who, from a distance, shot down whatever Sues he could to prevent Treebreeze from becoming overwhelmed.

Matthew and Primrose also did their part, kicking at the birds and throwing what rocks they could find in this impossibly soft soil, trying to get them away from the Tapestry. Wren, however, was detained, hiding her little sister behind her back as a particularly ridiculous-looking sparrow advanced on them.

"Be not scared, young one," cooed the bird, its smooth, purple feathers shimmering with an iridescent green color.

Lark was entranced by what now seemed to her to be the prettiest bird she had ever seen. She peeked out from behind Wren's dress, and her sister looked down for just a moment to push her back.

That was all the time the sparrow needed. Flying swiftly at the elder mousemaid, it raked its claws down the left side of her face and pushed her aside. Taking Lark by the shoulders, it lifted her into the air – something no normal sparrow should have been strong enough to do alone, even given the Dibbun's smallness – and flew high, as if intending to drop her. Wren, already enveloped in the transformation into a Sue, could do little more than watch helplessly.

As the purple fog took over her mind, the last thing Wren remembered was the harsh cry of a great bird of prey.

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The battle took a sharp turn in the Sentinels' favor when everybeast heard that same screech. Lilac's ears twitched in recognition, and she looked up in surprise to behold a massive, splendid golden eagle tear into the ranks of the flying sparrows. The smaller birds paused in alarm, unsure from whence this angry predator had come. The Tapestry was soon safe; the eagle scattered the troupe of sparrows assaulting it like so many ninepins.

The Sparraking, seeing this disturbance, strutted out into the open, glaring banefully at the eagle. "Why dost thou do this, eagle fierce? 'Tisn't my people ye wantest, but me!"

The raptor's neck feathers ruffled in consternation. "Irakra, friend, don't you remember me?"

"I be no friend of thine! Have at thou, coward!" And, with that, the lavender-colored bird charged with a roar.

The eagle retreated in consternation, not wanting to attack the sparrow because of the inevitable outcome of a fight to the death. However, as both birds took to the skies, the sparrow worried the bigger bird, until there was no choice left but to fight. The combatants twisted and turned, dropped and glided, pecked and batted each other with their wings. One moment, they flew so high that they were momentarily out of sight…then, they swooped amidst the battle on the ground.

All eyes turned to the fight between the eagle and the sparrow or to the remaining skirmishes between Sue and Sentinel. With almost everybeast's attention occupied, only a very few noticed the landbeasts who had followed the great bird.

Lark was the first to notice, when the sparrow that had captured her quite inexplicably burst into flames. She fell, screaming, to what she thought would be her death, but somebeast caught her before she hit the ground. When the Dibbun dared to open her eyes again, she saw that her rescuer was a gray-furred ferret, who wore a pair of spectacles in severe disrepair.

The ferret was breathing heavily, as if he had just stopped after a long run – which, in fact, he had. Upon seeing that the mousemaid was uninjured, though, he managed to wink broadly at her. "Gotcha."

Then there were Kenzie and Milfoil, who were beset by five sparrows who had surrounded them. They had managed to give as good as they got, slashing three sparrows up pretty nicely, but, regrettably, not fatally. The birds were now closing in on them in a whirlwind of purple feathers.

_Snap-hiss!_

"What the…?"

One body fell to the ground, a cauterized hole between its shoulders where its head used to be. Another two met a quieter end, as two twin short swords pierced through their backs. Kenzie and Milfoil finished off the last two simply, with slit throats, and then stood still, staring at the creatures in front of them.

One, an ottermaid, paid them no heed, glaring at her companion. "I thought I told you no lightsaber!"

"Lightsaber?" replied the other, a gray-furred squirrelmaid, innocently turning her weapon off and putting it behind her back. "What lightsaber?"

It was then that Kenzie found her voice again. "How did you get here? _When_ did you…?"

A particularly loud scream from the direction of the battle cut her off, and the four maids turned quickly to see what had happened. The battleground was deathly still, totally devoid of any noise for the first time in what seemed like years. And, for some reason…there weren't any Sues! In their place were normal, brown-feathered, fierce-looking sparrows and normal, cut-up, tired-looking Sentinels, who looked as if they had never been changed. All of them were blinking in confusion, wondering why in Dark Forest's name they were fighting their friends and allies.

"How on earth…?" murmured Milfoil, but the other squirrelmaid pointed grimly to the center of the battleground.

The eagle's magnificent form was bent over a pitiful, blood-stained bundle of feathers that could have been pure white, once. Tears flowed unabashedly from the large bird's amber eyes.

"My poor friend," he murmured, his voice choked. "Forgive me."

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**And finally - _finally_ - the mysterious "scientists" make an appearance. Aelin, Kalyn, and Jarrtail do not belong to me...they belong to the famous Oreramar, storiewriter, and Jarrtail, respectively. More on them soon...**

**The Suesong is "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" from the musical _Oklahoma_. It is random...very, very random...but it seemed to be just perfect for songfic Sues, who'll sing anything at all if it's pretty, regardless of whether or not it fits with the subject matter. Plus, my inner Broadway geek is very pleased with this metaphorical chocolate bar.**


	22. Chapter 21

**This chapter has been modified from its original version. Just to let you know.**

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Chapter Twenty-One

Every moment Snowflower spent in the company of these crazy Borderlanders left her more and more bewildered. As soon as they got onto the trail of the Stu that had stolen the provisions, their attitudes changed entirely. It was almost as if they became completely different mice overnight.

This change was more drastic with Korren. She couldn't be sure, but he certainly seemed a lot less mysterious to her. Before, he had shown no emotion, period. Snowflower had seen stones that relaxed more; when he yelled at her during the Sue-storm, her jaw had dropped partially out of surprise, because for one moment, he actually seemed genuinely angry. Now, she constantly had to control the urge to gape at him, because his entire being seemed to radiate excitement. It was so absurd; this mouse, who had seemed to be so serious that she figured his face would break if he smiled, looked like a little kid who had just received a new toy. His body seemed to be constantly in motion, now standing on tippaw to examine a broken branch, now crouching to look at a pawprint. If she tilted her head, and squinted a little, she could even detect a slight _swagger_ to his walk, as if he was wholly pleased with himself.

Trying to figure Korren out made her dizzy, at the very least.

With Rano, the change was much less obvious, though it was still quite noticeable. He almost seemed to forget Snowflower was there. "Almost" was the key word. He still kept tabs on her, and she still caught the suspicious looks he threw her every so often. But these looks came less frequently now, and with a little less malice. He almost looked distracted, like he had better things to think about than her imminent treachery.

After a bit of thought on the matter, the mousemaid realized, with a jolt, that the change was due to professional enthusiasm. They _were_ Sue-hunters, after all; they were very much in their element, here. Why a Stu would enjoy himself so much killing his own kind, she couldn't decide, but it certainly made sense.

The three mice had been walking for a few hours now, walking along the sloped side of a steep Sue-mountain in the middle of a garish purple forest, and trying not to think about their growling stomachs. Around midmorning they suddenly came upon a very small clearing. Snowflower had never come upon a clearing this fast, since, usually, a clearing could be seen from a distance, in the way the light suddenly became brighter up ahead. Due to the unusual lighting of the Sue-forest, this clearing struck her by surprise, and she stopped abruptly, blinking into the light and reflixively looking up toward the sky.

For some reason, she felt as if she had not seen the sun or the sky in centuries. The view was so beautiful…the cloudless blue expanse stretching overhead, with the deliciously yellow orb glowing cheerfully, as if it had never heard of the color purple. The sight of the sun defiantly continuing to rise, daring to remain normal even when nothing else did, caused her heart to brim over in hope and loneliness all at the same time. Her eyes watered, and she clamped them shut to avoid crying in front of her strange company, and to block out the total isolation she felt. Yet, she made herself feel the warmth on her face, made herself recognize the hope and revel in it.

She did not know how long she had been there until her thoughts were interrupted.

"Snaflo'er?"

The voice had been Korren's, but she would have been equally surprised if it had been Rano's. They never called her by her full name; it was always "lass" or "lassie" or something else of the sort. It got her attention quickly, however mangled the pronunciation was.

Korren was looking at her again, in that way that usually made her uncomfortable…but this time, the feeling of revulsion did not come over her. The male fieldmouse was facing east, and the light of the sun penetrated the darkness under his hood just a little, partially revealing his face. She could see his whiskers, which were long and well-groomed, and a bit of his nose, which was pink in color; further into the hood, his eyes glimmered, reflecting the light. For the first time, there seemed to be a beast under that cloak, instead of a ghost with no face…and, quite inexplicably, he fascinated her…

"Are ye all righ', lass?"

Rano's voice cut into her thoughts, startling her. She turned her head quickly, to see the harvest mouse staring at her with a look of stern apprehension.

"Aye," she said absent-mindedly, unconsciously slipping back into the Northern way of saying yes. "I'm fine."

As she said this, she glanced back at Korren, but the fieldmouse had turned away from her to follow the trail. A vague feeling of disappointment arose in her chest, but she pushed it down, since there seemed to be no reason for being disappointed.

It was only when she started walking again, determined to forget that the moment had ever happened, that Rano looked away from her. She did not notice how he gnawed worriedly at his lip as he strode beside her, nor did she see the anxious expression in his eyes whenever he saw Korren.

***

They came upon the Sue just a few minutes after leaving the clearing. It was not hard; this had to be one of the stupidest powderpuffs that Korren had ever hunted. It didn't bother to conceal its tracks, broke branches left and right, walked upwind of its pursuers…it didn't take a skilled Sue-slayer to catch up with this one, though skill helped.

He saw the Sue before it saw him, due to one of the powderpuff's other mistakes. It was a Stu, and he was wearing a fancy sky blue dress, which, though it was much too small for him, certainly did not blend in with the purple surroundings. As soon as that caught his eye, the fieldmouse crouched and turned backwards in one neat motion. He caught Rano's eye, putting a claw to his lips, to which the harvest mouse replied to with a nod. Korren then stole closer to the powderpuff, hiding himself behind a large oak tree that afforded him with a good view.

The Stu certainly wasn't much to look at. Save for his impossible skinniness and the odd little clump of black fur that sat on the top of his head, one might have thought he was a regular weasel. Then, he ate the sparkly purple biscuit in three big bites, without breaking one tooth, and Korren knew there was no doubt as to what he was.

It was then that he heard his companions creep up and crouch next to him. "My dress," Snowflower murmured, sounding faintly put-off.

_Ah, sah that's where it came from,_ thought Korren. _It's a nice dress. Matches her eyes…_

Rano, knowing from long experience that Korren's mind was going off on a tangent, gave him a quick swat upside the head. The fieldmouse blinked, and forced his mind to concentrate on the situation ahead.

"Well, we're on th'righ' track," he muttered. "Now what?"

"I can nail 'im from here," the mousemaid replied, looking meaningfully at her bow.

"Don't ye want th'dress back?" he asked.

She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. "Does that really matter right now?"

Of course it didn't. Korren sighed. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he managed to say the stupidest things.

With that settled, the mousemaid pulled her bowstring back, focusing on the Stu. The weasel was sitting just a few yards away, eating _their_ food, and remaining somewhat still. He didn't doubt she could make the shot. However, both he and Rano drew their swords and tensed to run, on the off chance that she did miss.

And it was a good thing they did, too, for, just as Snowflower was about to release the arrow, the Stu suddenly lept up. For no reason at all, he began to do a crazy little dance, singing at the top of his lungs.

"U-G-L-Y! YOU AIN'T GOT NO ALIBI! YOU UGLY!" There were several audible pops as some of the seams on the dress broke under the pressure they were under, but the Stu did not care. He wiggled in a way that seemed impossible for anybeast.

Snowflower blinked, stopping herself from releasing at the last moment, and tried to re-aim. But the weasel's movements were almost impossible to guess, and when she did release the arrow, it buried itself harmlessly in the spot where the creature's tail had been a moment before. The Stu, completely unharmed, stopped singing in a moment. A moment later, he had disappeared into the forest.

"Two kin play at _that_ game," muttered Korren. Without stopping to think of whether or not Snowflower saw – she knew about him anyway, so it didn't matter – he shot off after the Stu. The others would be able to follow, he hoped…and just to make sure, he slashed constantly at the objects on either side of him, so that they would know where he went.

He needn't have bothered. The Stu seemed to have a destination picked out from the start of the chase, since he ran straight on without seeming to think about where he was going. That destination turned out to be a little valley between the mountains, which was as yet devoid of trees and was not far from where the chase began. As soon as they drew near to that vale, the Stu made his move.

"MOOOOOOMMYYYYYYYY!" he cried, just before he burst through some heavy purple bushes into the clearing. Korren wasn't sure whether to be amused or scared…was the weasel setting his mother on him? He could imagine it now: a dour old weaselwife, advancing on him with a purple cane and yelling "You won't touch my boy!" He decided to go with amused.

As soon as he broke through the brush, however, his grin faded, and he ground to a halt a few yards into the clearing. There was no dour old weaselwife, nor was there a female weasel at all. There were three creatures there, a ferret, a pine marten, and a fieldmouse. All were dressed comfortably, as if they were travelers, and had queer-looking haversacks on their backs. They were currently addressing the Stu, their accents jarringly flat compared to most Mossflower accents.

"…blazes have you been?" the fieldmouse, who dressed entirely in pink and sported a pair of spectacles, was saying. She bore a staff that stood a few inches taller than she did, which was as pink as her tunic, and she had a peeved look on her face that was quickly degenerating into wrath. Korren could not see any other weapons on her, or the weapons the other two carried, for that matter.

"I…eh…I come bearing food!"

"And that's supposed to make up for escaping and causing more havoc in this time period than there already is?"

"The Sues! They're chasing me!"

The ferret, a tall beast who wore a green tunic, thick, blue-colored leggings, and rectangular glasses, scoffed openly. "You _are_ a Stu! What would they have against you?"

"Ask _him_!" The weasel pointed over his shoulder, directing the attention of the other three to Korren. The fieldmouse gulped, suddenly getting the feeling that he should have run before now.

"Oh, great going!" exclaimed the marten, who was dressed in a green tunic, black leggings, and an oddly-shaped black hat. "You led it right to us!"

She whipped out a floppy disk of cloth on a leather cord, which she whirled over her head like a sling. Korren did not wait to see what she was going to do with the strange weapon. Turning on his heel, he made for the forest. He heard a whistling sound, as a circular object flew over his head, landing harmlessly in the grass a couple feet to his left. The marten cursed, using a word which Korren (surprisingly) did not recognize, as he disappeared into the forest again, hoping to lose the hunters in the trees.

But these creatures were more powerful than he had anticipated. Before he was two yards into the trees, there came a sound of thunder from the direction of the clearing. Seconds later, a broad, horizontal beam of pink energy tore through the forest, shaking the ground as it passed through. The Sue-trees literally jumped when the beam hit them, and Korren was thrown six feet into the air before he landed hard on his back. Miraculously, he still held onto his sword, and he hadn't fallen on it.

The big fieldmouse gasped, trying to force air into his winded lungs. "What the 'gates…?"

"YAAAAAAAAAH!" The pine marten was upon him in a minute, leaping over a small tree which had fallen because of the energy beam. Her right paw hefted a knife he had only heard stories about, a huge, rectangular thing called a meat cleaver, which vermin used to cut up large, bony slabs of meat. She had this nightmare knife lifted above her head, using the momentum of her jump to bring it crashing down towards Korren's torso.

There was no way in Hellgates his sword would hold up in blocking a strike like that, so Korren rolled quickly to his left. The meat cleaver buried itself deep into the dirt where his sternum used to be, and as the marten snarled and pulled her weapon from the ground, the fieldmouse used the temporary diversion to kick her right footpaw out from under her. She fell onto her tail, and Korren scrambled to his footpaws, in the process drawing his curved dagger from its scabbard on his right side. This fight would need both of his blades.

The marten recovered quickly, standing up and slashing the meat cleaver horizontally towards Korren's neck. He neatly dodged that, but he failed to notice when she flicked the floppy disc-shaped weapon at him again, this time aiming low. The cord wrapped around his knees like a whip, and when the marten pulled, he fell forward into a kneeling position.

Cackling triumphantly, the marten lifted her knife to split Korren's skull. Putting his blades together in an X-like shape, Korren caught the meat cleaver in the joint where the blades met. Then, he pulled his arms back sharply, slashing with both blades at the same time. The meat cleaver was sent flying as the marten instinctively pulled back to save her arm, and the fieldmouse rolled onto his back again, using his pinioned legs to deliver a vigorous kick to her abdomen. As the marten fell back, gasping, Korren slashed frantically at the cord that bound his legs until he severed it with a blow of his sword.

"Son of a…" the marten rasped as he stood up once more. "You wrecked my gee-yo-teen!"

At the unfamiliar word, Korren blinked. "Ye hurt yer what?"

"She said you wrecked her guillotine," said a male voice behind him. Korren jumped forward, trying to get out of reach of the ferret, who had evidently snuck up on him while he was fighting. He whirled around, blades prepared to block, then realized that that was what the ferret was aiming for, to distract him while the marten…

KA-CHUNK!

…tried to drive the cleaver into his back. He rolled away in the nick of time, and the big knife hit the fallen tree trunk. The martenmaid snarled and tried to retrieve her weapon, while Korren advanced toward the ferret, to prevent him from ganging up on him again.

However, at that moment, a creature in a purple cloak collided with the ferret's midsection. Rano.

The harvest mouse had obviously been running for some time, because his momentum carried both him and the ferret into the tree trunk. The ferret was in a tight position then, because his back was up against the wood without any mobility; Rano had him trapped.

The harvest mouse lifted his sword in an attempt to slash the ferret's throat, but the bigger creature clasped his arm before the blade could make contact. With a smart flick of his wrist, the ferret twisted Rano's arm in the space between the elbow and the paw. Rano yelped in pain and dropped his sword, and the ferret pushed him away. As Rano retreated, so as to draw his dagger with his left paw, the ferret drew his own dagger from a scabbard on his belt, which was hidden by the folds of his long tunic, and advanced on the mouse.

All of this happened within a few moments; Korren was about to rush over to help his friend, but a flicker of movement to his right told him that the marten was back. This time, she had a large scimitar in paw, which she brought down in a diagonal slash that would have cut him open from shoulder to hip. He only barely managed to block it. _Where in blue blazes is she gettin' all these weapons?_

Within a few moments, he was far too occupied to even think of Rano.

***

The harvest mouse was not doing as poorly as Korren might have suspected. Neither he nor the ferret had scored a hit yet; they side-stepped in a tight circle, each sizing up the other. Occasionally, one made a slash at the other, experimentally more than seriously, since the strike always missed.

After a few minutes of this monotony, the ferret snorted. "The heck with this," he muttered.

Rano stared in confusion as his opponent sheathed his dagger, pulling out a silver-colored object that looked like a metal bar. He brought the object up to eye-level, fiddling with things that looked like buttons on its surface.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Rano charged. However, before he could get very close to the ferret, he ran into something that felt like a wall and fell on his tail. Shaking his head, he stood up, and tried again…only to have the same thing happen again.

The ferret grinned. "Thank you, Rector!" he said, to nobeast in particular. Then, he pointed the silvery thing at Rano.

The harvest mouse had only seconds to get out of the way before a red beam of light came out of the object. The light struck the tree that had been behind him, causing it to explode into a thousand pencil-sized splinters.

Rano recovered, plucking out a splinter that had landed in his upper arm…only to find that the ferret was pointing the shiny weapon at him again. He ran. Behind him, a second tree succumbed to a larger beam of light, a third burst into flames, and a fourth went up in a small cloud that looked vaguely mushroom-shaped.

This went on for quite a bit, until nearly all the trees around them had met grisly ends. Then, one time, the ferret pressed a button that seemed to do nothing at first. Hearing no explosion, Rano halted for a moment. The ferret did nothing but crane his neck backward to look immediately upward. "Come on, come on, come on…" he murmured.

A shadow that started as a small splotch on top of the ferret's head steadily grew one that covered him with blackness. Rano looked up. Something that appeared to be a large anvil, fit for any Badger Lord's forge, sailed down from the heavens, directly above the ferret. It fell, and fell, and fell, but the ferret did not move until the last minute, when he stepped slightly backwards. A foot away from the ferret's head, the anvil ricocheted off of the self-same invisible wall that Rano had run into, and came hurtling in the harvest mouse's direction.

"GAAAAH!" screamed Rano, hurling himself out of the way in the very nick of time.

The anvil hit the ground, but, after its incredibly long fall, its impetus was so great that it continued rolling even though it made a large crater in the purple topsoil. Korren and the marten, who were now fighting downhill from Rano and the ferret, heard the crash, and looked up to see that they were right in the path of the anvil.

"Bloody…" was all the cursing the marten had time for as she lunged backwards, narrowly avoiding getting squashed. Korren was forced to leap as hard as he could, which was enough to launch him about ten feet into the air. The anvil rolled on past them, tumbling towards the valley…

***

Meanwhile, in the peaceful valley, the mousemaid in pink was leading the weasel-Stu in the direction of the fight. The Stu was now completely naked save for a pair of bright red boxer shorts, and his paws were bound behind his back with a pair of iron shackles. The mousemaid marched beside him, one end of her staff lade threateningly close to his head.

"IT BURNS! IT BURNS US, PRECIOUS!"

"GOOD!" yelled the mousemaid. "It serves you right, ruining a perfectly good dress like this!" Said dress was currently in a lopsided bundle in the mousemaid's unoccupied paw, which she clutched protectively to her chest.

"So help me Newo, if I have to come chasing after you in the middle of a Sue-verse ever, EVER again, I will personally cut your tail off and feed it to the Dirgecallers. And then I will cut out your tongue and do the same thing to it…and cut your head-fur, it looks stupid…and drop you in a pot of boiling oil…"

The weasel rolled his eyes, making rude little mimicking motions with his mouth, like he'd heard the same spiel over and over again.

"…AND THEN, I'll give you to Ara and let her do whatever the hell she wants with you. She's creatively violent, you know…_she_ could probably come up with a way to kill you…why haven't I thought of that before…walk faster, idiot!"

"Yes, _Mom._"

_Thwack!_

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER, AND IF I WAS, I'D CARVE MY OWN HEART OUT WITH AN ICE CREAM SPOON AND THROW IT INTO THE DEEPEST BLACK HOLE I COULD FIND! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

The weasel blinked, apparently unfazed by nearly having his head bashed by the blunt end of a staff and his ears nearly blown out by the volume of the mousemaid's voice. "So you're not my mother?" he asked, in seeming confusion.

"HECK NO!"

"…Oh. Well then, are you doing anything next Saturday?"

The mousemaid breathed deeply, about to let loose another scream…and then, a rumble came from the woods up ahead. The gigantic anvil rolled into view, trampling a couple of trees as it did so. The mousemaid managed to back up in time, but the weasel simply stared in petrified horror. The anvil hit him, and rolled to a stop in the middle of the valley, with the weasel neatly pinned underneath it.

The mousemaid blinked, but made no other sign of being surprised. "Consider that a 'no!'" she called, grinning.

***

Snowflower had remained hidden when Rano charged the ferret. She had put her empty haversack over her head like a hood, so that she had as much camouflage as she was going to get in the purple Sue-forest. With one arrow nocked to her bowstring, she observed both fights, trying to find an opening to shoot at the strange beasts.

It would probably be pretty pointless to shoot at the ferret, which Rano had proven with more than enough evidence. So, she took aim at the marten.

_Okay, now…no wait, she moved. Now? No, Korren's in the way. Wait for it…gotcha!_ The arrow glided through the air, but the marten moved while it was still flying. The shaft buried itself in the ground directly behind the marten…and right in front of the other mousemaid, who had just arrived upon the scene of the battle.

Snowflower held her breath, hoping the other mousemaid did not notice. No such luck…and even worse, the mousemaid seemed to know a little bit about archery herself. While her eyes followed what she thought would be the arrow's trajectory, she raised her brightly colored staff.

A sensation arose around Snowflower's footpaw, as if she was being grasped by an invisible paw. Before she could do anything about it, she was jerked out of her hiding spot behind a purple sycamore tree, the haversack coming off of her head as it dragged on the ground. She screamed as she fell down the incline of the mountain, flailing about for anything to grab that would stop her descent, but the invisible paw was still around her footpaw, and she was helpless. She came to a sudden stop just next to the other mousemaid's footpaws.

The other mousemaid plucked the arrow from the ground, displaying its Sue-ified fletching in front of Snowflower's face. "This yours?"

The archermaid replied by aiming a whack at her opponent's knees with her bow. The other mousemaid blocked the attack with her staff. "Heh, I thought so."

And then she stepped on Snowflower's bow wrist. The purple-clad mousemaid winced and dropped her bow, but before she could stand up and pummel her aggressor like she planned, she heard the other mousemaid speak a single word. "Este."

Before she knew it, Snowflower had drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	23. Chapter 22

**Livvy10: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. The Wikipedia article on Mary Sues is very informative; that's where I did most of my research.**

**Paths Crossing: Yeah, I love that fight scene too. Sugar rushes make writing this just a tad bit more awesome than usual. And Newo will go through a lot of pain, don't ye fret.**

**Jarrtail: A belated THANK YOU for that belated Happy Birthday is in order. And it's Newo's job not to fit in, pretty much; he'll be more serious than normal, but not too serious...**

**Aris Dalton: Your prize is a reference to a plant that will _never_ turn purple. Enjoy.**

**Oreramar: Thank you for your thorough review. Newo was wearing the boxers under the dress, and "este" is Elvish for "rest"...closest thing I could find to sleep. Elvish dictionaries...I love 'em!**

**Red Squirrel Writer: Your praise warms my heart. Thank you so much for reviewing.**

**Kelaiah: Yeah, sorry that I made you root for the Stu. They'll be on the same side...eventually. I'm glad it made you laugh.**

**The last chapter has been modified a little, due to a few comments from Oreramar and Kelaiah. Just the fight scene, nothing big.**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

The Queen of the Sues was helpless; temporarily so, yes, but helpless just the same. All of her plans, so carefully constructed during the past ten seasons undercover in this miserable not-purple Abbey, had been torn asunder in just one day.

It was ludicrous! The sparrows should have won; they far outnumbered the Sentinels, they had more powerful mind-controlling powers than many similar Sues of other species, and they were so _kyoooot!_ Yet, even now, she could sense the warlike little birds return to their senses and come completely out of her influence. And after she had worn her powers to the bone, summoning them up early from the southern islands where they spent their winters to have the honor of serving her! Ungrateful little creatures!

In response, she put the entire Abbey on high alert. Morganna was to lead her army out of the Abbey at dawn's light on the morrow. Meanwhile, "Her Majesty" focused all of her energy on the land under her influence, gathering all of the excess land into the mountains, so that the amount of flat land shrunk. If she managed to finish before dawn, the army could make it to the salamander mountain in two days time, with a bit of well-choreographed jogging, and still be fit for battle upon the instant of their arrival.

Of course, they could probably do the same thing _now,_ but there was no harm in taking precautions…

"Ahem."

The Queen cursed her obliviousness; she should have been able to detect the beast standing behind her before she even entered the room. "What is it, Caran?"

"Hast thou gathered my team yet, my liege?"

"Her Majesty" postponed a session of glaring out of the window to glare at the little mouse-Sue. "If you haven't noticed, Caran, I've been quite busy."

The mouse cocked an unimpressed eyebrow, in an annoyingly characteristic impulse to question everything her leader did. "If ye'd have gatheredest the team at the time we had consideredest the idea, we couldst have beenest in the mountain by now, and ye would notest have hadst to worrist about us whilst ye were 'busy.' But ye waitedest too long, and _now_ looketh where we beeth!"

That was a lot of "-ests" for one monologue, even for Caranfindel, and "Her Majesty" had trouble processing everything. Perhaps that was the reaction the mouse wanted, because the Queen was still working on "couldst have beenest" when Caran dropped her next bit of news. "But, since that beeth not the case, I shall start for the mountain post-haste. Worry thyself not about sending companions; methinks I couldst find better beasts for the mission than thou."

When those two sentences were finished, the Queen was still on "looketh where we beeth," and was completely confounded when her aide walked out of the room. However, she managed to learn the gist of what the mouse was saying, and jogged outside to catch up.

"Caran! Stop!"

The mouse did not stop when ordered to do so, and the few Sues lingering in the hallway near the Queen's chamber gawped at the blatant act of insubordination. "Her Majesty," however, did not seem to notice the blasphemy, and ran down the stairs after the mouse as if she were her equal.

"You can't just leave! We need you here!"

"No, what thou needeth is a good military leader, and thou haveth that in thy little Juska pet, frivolous though she be. Thou also needeth eyes inside that mountain before the tapestry arriveth, or else all shall be in vain. I be able to provide what thou lacketh."

The Sue leader had, by now, caught up, and she decided to gain some more of her self-respect. "Who are you to judge your Queen's strategies?" she demanded regally – an effect that was (almost) lost as she gasped to regain her breath and keep up with the mouse's quick strides at the same time.

Caranfindel had heard her leader's intended tone, and, in the midst of what had been Cavern Hole, she stopped abruptly to fix "Her Majesty" with a stern, contemptuous stare. "Ye forgeteth, _my liege_," she said, with a quiet tone of sarcasm, "that I had been a princess – yea, nearly a queen at that – even before I acquainted myself with thou. And what wast thou when we met? Tell me."

If any normal beast – indeed, if any lesser Sue – had emitted such a look of petulant hatred as "Her Majesty" did at this moment, they would have died from an acute brain aneurysm. And if any normal beast – indeed, if any lesser Sue – had been on the receiving end of such an expression as Caranfindel now was, they would have either spontaneously combusted or gracefully fainted from the shock, respectively. But, circumstances being as they were, all that happened was a very, _very_ intense staring match, which, to the surprise of the onlookers, "Her Majesty" lost.

Jaws dropped throughout the Hole as the short little mouse turned on her heel and marched toward the Redwall stairs. "Her Majesty," still trying to get the last word, yelled after her subordinate in a fit of frustrated tears. "We had a bargain!"

"Aye, that we did," returned the mouse, without breaking her pace, "my servitude for thy aid in finding my son. I _kept_ my part of the bargain, and I be _still_ keeping up my part in spying for thee. Thou didst not return me the same respect, so I must needs do thy work _for_ thee."

Caranfindel could hear the audible gasps of horror at this parting shot, but she had never cared for the opinions of "Her Majesty's" drones. She stalked up the stairs into Great Hall, only breaking step when she found the very Stu she wanted to accompany her on a spy mission.

Said Stu was standing in the middle of the hall, engaged in a very passionate meeting with his midnight-furred lady-love. The Sue-ified Juska tribe stood around them, laying their heads on each other's shoulders and sighing happily at the sentimental scene. A flock of blue…er, purple-birds somehow managed to enter the Hall without breaking windows, singing merrily at the top of their lungs to a tune struck on an invisible set of violins.

"Airen, remove thy tongue from Morganna's throat and heed my words. Thou'rt half-Marlfox, correct?"

The purple-birds squawked, and the Juska gaped. The invisible violins all suffered from broken strings at the exact same moment. However, the actual couple, far from being annoyed at the interruption, brought themselves out of their lip-lock and snuggled comfortably together, Morganna resting her head on her beloved's chest.

Airen smiled brightly. "Yes, marm, and half fox-wolf on top of that." Morganna beamed…her beloved was so _perfect…_

"Good. Thou art to accompany me on a spying mission to the infidels' mountain, starting now. Bringeth thou nothing, we shall live off the land."

It was only then that the foxes gasped in horror. "But…but…" they said, in fearful symmetry.

"Now. Thou shalt see thy love again, but this mission beeth of the utmost importance. Besides, she'll do better without thy distraction in the midst of battle, methinks."

* * *

"Why did you have to bring me down here?" Airen keened, shivering disdainfully in the damp dark of the Redwall cellars.

As she led the way into the gloomiest depths of the cellar she could find, a sparkly pink lantern in paw, Caran rolled her gray-as-thunder-cloud eyes. It had been a full forty-five minutes since the little scene in Great Hall, and she had spent all of that time listening to the dog fox's whining. She'd had to grab him by the ear to pull him away from the tender farewells of his beloved, which had lasted a good half hour, by her reckoning.

"It's cold down here!"

"It beeth the dead of winter, pup. Of _course_ it be cold."

"But Her Majesty said that we would never see winter again, that we would live in peace and harmony and loveliness in a perpetual spring that will last for the rest of eternity! It _can't_ be cold _now!_"

The mouse blinked. "Thou memorizest her spayches?"

The fox grinned. "Yes. Her Majesty is a lovely speaker."

"Her _Majesty_ beeth a self-absorbed blowhard who maketh many pretty promises, but lacketh the nerve and the backbone to keep them."

Airen stared, his jaw hitting his collarbone with a _clack!_ Caran had enough time to muse on how many similar reactions she had received that day – not to mention the remarkable elasticity of the fox's jaw muscles – before he found the voice to react.

"How…how _dare_ you! Her Majesty is the most beautiful, wonderful, talented, gracious, caring…"

"…being in the entire universe. Aye, I knoweth. But she be stupid all the same." Without waiting for his answer, she continued through the casks, trusting that he would be offended enough to follow her.

"How can you say that about the eldritch who made you?"

"Well first, because she didst not make me, I madest myself. Dreamweaver was simply a means to an end."

The dog fox's goldish-purplish-bluish eyes went wide, as he realized that Caran had referred to "Her Majesty" by name. Nobody was allowed to do that! Probably because nobody knew "Her Majesty's" name in the first place, but still! Was nothing sacred?

"Second, because it be true. Thine illustrious leader hath been working for ten seasons, gathering power for this great strike against all that the commoners holdeth as holy, their 'logic,' their 'normalcy,' their 'truth.' Yet, now that she hath gathered all of the power, she useth it foolishly. She couldst have destroyed the Tapestry before now; she hadest time to do so, after all. Yet now she sitteth up in her room, brushing her tail and singing out the window and glaring at the walls, waiting for her servants to fetch the cloth for her instead of doing it herself."

At this point, the little mouse halted, glanced about to check their position, and nodded approvingly. Setting the lantern down on the ground, she somehow managed to grab a broom out of thin air and started sweeping a small space of the dirt floor, talking swiftly as she did so.

"Her failure to destroy her enemies' great strength when she hadeth the chance hath led to other complications. They hadeth time to prepare. They foundeth out her game before it began…barely before it began, but with time enough to ruin everything. And now, without the Tapestry gone, the Abbey rebelleth."

"No it doesn't!" Airen protested. "The orchards and gardens are all the divine color, as are the trees in Mossflower and the mountains and plains beyond! Everything is perfect."

Caran laughed, and it was a bitter, mirthless laugh that could not fail to sound creepy in those cellars. "Morganna telleth ye nothing of her little meetings with the High and Mighty, doth she? Have ye not eyes? The walls be red still, and the cellars be cold. 'Her Majesty's' promises beeth all show."

"Well, Her Majesty can take care of that with a quick trance."

The mouse stared at him, awed by his total lack of competence. "No, she cannot. She hath tried, but the Abbey fighteth back. Ye've felteth it, too, hath ye not? Wondereth ye not why the bells doth not ring, nor doth any Recorder dwell in the gatehouse? Hath ye felt a chill whenever ye walketh on the walltops, or ventureth into the Infirmary? Why doth thou not take thy lady love into the rose garden for a tryst? And why doth thou hurry when thou ascendeth the Redwall stairs?"

Airen fell silent, the import of Caran's words striking a chord in his mind. He wouldn't admit it, not to her…but all of the places she mentioned made him awfully uncomfortable, just because they were there.

The mouse grinned toothily. "So ye _hath_ felt it. And for a moment I thought thou hadst no hackles." She leaned on the broom, glancing about the room full of wine-colored casks in fearful awe. "This place hath spirits aplenty, and none of them favor us. Even in here thou canth feel it."

It was true. Airen could feel a prickly sensation all over his body, as if being poked by a thousand spines all at once.

"That beeth the Spikes, making their presence known. Get thou used to it; we shall suffer many similar things where we be going."

The mouse uttered a few dark-yet-flowery words underneath her breath, and made a gesture with her paw, as if throwing something toward the floor. In an instant, a hole appeared at her footpaws. It was not a nice-looking hole, but rather a flat, boring, black hole that appeared to lead to nothing.

Caran shook her head in frustration. "Just another instance of Her Majesty's addlepated ideas. She hath power to move the earth and change the mountains, and yet she hath not the wits to use a simple plothole."

The dog fox was quick to defend his deity, however true the mouse's words were. "There would be no drama in simply using a plothole. Drama is everything."

"To Hellgates with drama," the mouse spat. "I want my son back." And without another word, she jumped into the hole, vanishing before his very eyes.

Airen looked around, wondering if he should follow this madmouse to Salamandastron, or simply remain at Redwall and stay faithful to his leader and his mate. It certainly seemed tempting; Caran didn't exactly inspire confidence in her partner's heart.

Then the lantern's flame flickered and extinguished, as if it had been blown out…by somebeast who wasn't there.

Without a backwards glance, Airen lept into the plothole with his tail between his legs.


	24. Chapter 23

**I'm Aliiiiiive! *gasp* Agaaaaaain! And I've got a chapter full of filler and too cruddin' many things going on at once! After nearly a year of no updates at all! Yippeee!**

***sobs***

**Geez, you come down with one nasty bout of crippling, angst-inducing, chocolate-craving writer's block, and they rework the site on you. That's nasty, right there. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter...stupid and getting absoBALLYFRICKINlutely nowhere as I think it is. Seriously, all the cliffhangers are starting to drive ME nuts...and I thought I didn't require driving to get to that location as it was. BUT. It's going to get somewhere. Because its filler. And therefore it fills the spaces between chapters that actually do get somewhere. Hopefully.**

***sobs* Excuse me, I'll just be padding my next chapter with obscure StarWarsian cursing. Don't mind me...**

* * *

"Ouch!"

"Hold still," said Lilac Blacktip to her patient, lightly dabbing a wet cloth to the wound she was treating. "I know it stings, but it's better for you in the long run."

Wren tried to comply, though Lilac could tell it was hard. The mousemaid had not been a Sue for long before King Irakra was killed, but the turning had left its mark nevertheless. Three jagged gashes ran down the left side of her face, courtesy of the Sue-sparrow's claws. The wounds bled freely, and the mousemaid seemed to be in a lot of pain.

"You're lucky," remarked the hare after a time, as she put the finishing touches on the bandages she applied to Wren's face. "One inch to the right and you would have lost an eye. A bit lower and it might have cut your jugular. This wound will scar, but you'll heal."

"Yes, well, he could have let my spectacles alone," replied Wren, squinting. "I can't see one inch in front of my face without them."

Lilac laughed. "Perhaps somebeast at Salamandastron can help you there."

The mousemaid stumbled off to where her family was waiting for her. Lilac sighed. She wished that all the casualties could have been that minor. Her Sentinels had suffered their first "real" casualties of the war…one otter had bled to death from the severity of her injuries, and five others were bed-ridden. That wasn't including all the sparrows who had been killed as Sues, or the multiple other Sentinels who could walk, but were nursing nasty wounds all the same. It had been a victory, and a good victory at that, but somehow it didn't feel like a victory.

Leave it to Sues to take all the fun out of winning.

She wasn't the only one who felt that way. Goldtail perched on a rock a few yards away, watching as the Sparra buried their dead, his amber eyes dull with pain and anger. Her healing duties being finished, Lilac strode over to join him.

"It wasn't your fault, old friend," she murmured, slipping a comforting paw around his shoulders.

The eagle sighed. "I know," he said. "I just wish there had been another way."

She knew that feeling all too well, and he knew she knew it, so what was there to say? The hare hugged her friend and fellow officer just a little bit tighter, and those few moments of silence said more than any words could.

"Lilac?"

The hare turned to see Darkfur, who looked cautious for disturbing the rather personal situation. "Pardon me for interrupting, but this maiden wanted to speak to you. Should I tell her to wait until later?"

The squirrel gestured behind himself, and Lilac followed the direction of his paw to see an ottermaid who was not of the Sentinels. The maid had features that Lilac remembered from somewhere, though she could not seem to place them; her dark eyes wore a serious expression that indicated leadership skills beyond her tender teenage seasons. She crouched over one of the injured Sentinels, examining a large gash in the squirrel's shoulder and gnawing pensively at a hangclaw.

Lilac was about to tell them to come back later, but Goldtail cut her off. "That's right, I forgot. Send her over."

"Are you sure?" the hare whispered as soon as Darkfur's back was turned.

"It's important. And besides…" the eagle cast a wistful glance at the funeral, which the sparrows were stubbornly conducting on their own, placing their fallen amidst the tree branches and covering them with leaves, as was their custom. "I don't think I'll be welcome."

By now the newcomers had arrived, and Goldtail stood taller, bringing his focus to the situation at claw. "Lilac, this is one of three young ones who accompanied me on the journey from Salamandastron. I'm sure you remember Aelin Wordsmith…"

"I do," the hare said, recognition dawning on her, stretching a paw to the otter. She had met the "scientist" about two seasons beforepaw, when a large number of corsairs had caused their paths to meet at the Badger Mountain. "And how is your sister? Kalyn, is it?"

"She is well," Aelin said in her flat accent, looking fondly over her shoulder at the gray-furred squirrel chatting amiably with Kenzie Farsight, Milfoil, and a ferret Lilac had never seen before. "And how are Kenzie and Milfoil doing? I trust they haven't caused too much trouble."

"Only a little," Lilac remarked, grinning. The squirrel and the rat had joined up with the Sentinels just after encountering them; before that, they had been "scientists" who had worked alongside Aelin and her sister. The maidens' request to join had been rather sudden, and Lilac had been apprehensive in taking them in, but she had not regretted it once.

"Holt Galedeep was kind enough to receive us yesterday night," Goldtail got to the point, as the pleasantries came to an end, "and I suspect that they are not too far away at the moment. I was up before dawn to get this far, and these three managed to catch up with me."

The hare narrowed her eyes at that last bit of information. "That's a long run. You must be fast runners to have kept up with an eagle."

There was a glimmer of amusement hidden in the young creature's eyes, but it was not enough to blossom into a smile.

"If only we could credit our own talents with the run," Aelin remarked. "Sadly, though, the Sues are once again to blame. Thanks to that storm a few nights back, the land is contracting. It seems that we are only an afternoon's walk away from the coast. The only reason we took so long to get here was that we were running in the same direction the land is receding in."

Goldtail nodded, his eyes narrowed in the avian form of a frown. "It's true. I could see it happening from the skies. The land just rippled toward the mountains, which kept getting taller and taller."

Lilac frowned. It should have been a good two days' hard walk to the shores near Salamandastron. Just how powerful could their enemies get?

The ottermaid grinned humorlessly. "Scary, isn't it?"

The hare sighed. "Well, at least we can use that against them. I don't suppose you can share any advice on just how we're supposed to defeat these creatures?"

"Not a word," Aelin said, shrugging, "yet. But we're looking into it."

"We" meant the scientists. Lilac wasn't sure just what kind of science they pursued, save for the fact that Sues were involved…nor was she sure just what kind of creatures the scientists were. An ottermaid referring to a squirrelmaid as a sister might indicate adoption, if it weren't for the fact that, aside from the bushy tail, rudder, and different ear shapes, the two actually looked like they could be related. Kenzie (and to a lesser extent, Milfoil) was known to use the word "ass" instead of tail when cursing, and…were that ferret's paws smoking? Whatever they were, though, the Sues feared them, and right now, that's all Lilac needed to know.

Any further conversation, however scant Aelin's secrets would have made it, was cut off by a loud cry from the front of the lines. The Galedeep clan had arrived.

* * *

"Argh! Falcir, me ole matey! I haven't laid eyes on yew in nigh a season! How ya been?"

Falcir grinned as Skipper Galedeep embraced him heartily. "I've been good, Rungo! How're you?"

"I've been bad," said the burly, tattooed otter with a smirk. "I've gutted me a few rainbow-bottoms in the past few weeks, and I'm enjoyin' it too much."

"Heh, rainbow-bottoms? I'll have t'remember that…"

"So…looks like yew've had a scrape, eh? Got any wounded that need carryin'?"

"Actually, yes!" Mattia the Dart came running to join the conversation, waggling her white ears in a friendly manner. "About five of them, over there. Can you…?"

"Ach, no need to ask. All right, lads an' lassies, yew 'eard the lady! Get over there and put yer backs into it!"

"Aye-aye, Skipper!"

Around a dozen big, muscular otters ran into the camp and started shouldering their burdens. Lilac had to raise her voice a little to direct them in how to carry each wounded creature, but they were used to taking orders and even more used to carrying wounded, so there was little trouble. A few more unoccupied otters helped the Sentinel strongbeasts to carry the Tapestry, which produced quite a few cheers. One particularly big-looking fellow lifted Lily onto one shoulder, to her giggling protests and her husband's outright laughter.

Rungo Galedeep nodded approvingly. "Don't ye worry, mates! Ye'll all fit nicely onto our ship; we'll get ye to Salamandastron before sunset."

Mattia and Falcir suddenly developed the same wide-eyed expression, saying the same word simultaneously. "Ship?"

If it were possible for him to grin wider and with more bloodthirsty intent, Rungo would have. "Aye! Wouldja know…we ran into some sparkly 'descendants' of Mariel Gullwhacker, just the other day! They weren't good company, so we had ta gut 'em. The _Pearl Queen_ is back with the Galedeeps an she 'as never been prettier."

* * *

Goldtail watched with a little amusement as Lilac raced off to direct the otters. His old playmate looked rather the worse for wear, as he suspected he did, but she was holding out. Ever the warrior, just like she had been in their Dibbunhood at Salamandastron.

How much things had changed since then…

"It not bigbird's fault." The eagle jumped a bit when he heard the small, edgy little voice, and turned to see an angry-looking Sparra warrior perched to his right.

"It not bigbird's fault," she repeated. "Windwing know that. All Sparra know that. We watch, from big green place in middle. It the glitterworms' fault."

Goldtail hadn't the foggiest idea what the "big green place in middle" was, but he was glad to know that Windwing, the daughter of Irakra, understood his position. "Windwing father know it not bigbird's fault?" he asked, tentatively.

The Sparra princess – queen, now – nodded. "Yes. So Sparra go with bigbird, fly much, eat much glitterworm."

The eagle smiled, and nodded. "Thank you, Windwing. I'd like that."

The dangerous little bird's eyes glimmered. "So would Father, and so will Windwing."

* * *

Thirty minutes into the walk toward the coast, the "scientists" and their friends among the Sentinels had fallen to the back of the line, having promised Rillame the weaselmaid that they would take over her watch duty. The Wordsmith sisters and Jarrtail the ferret regarded the creatures in front of them with some trepidation, and, when they were sure they could not be heard, Kalyn leaned over to whisper in Kenzie's ear.

"So…what's the verdict on these, eh, 'Sentinels?'"

The ratmaid shook her head with an expression that bordered on relief. "Not a sparkly one among them."

Kalyn blinked, not sure what to make of that. "Not one? Even though they're a bunch of vermin and woodlanders playing buddy-buddy with each other?"

"Not all of them are too terribly friendly," Milfoil put in. Kenzie nodded with a snort, glaring daggers at Chickweed's back. "There are rumors that Sprakenwulf has some magic powers," the squirrelmaid continued, "like being able to throw light beams and such. We've never seen her use them, though. We're beginning to think it's just a myth to make sure the minstrels do their homework."

"And that's just about as Sueish as anybeast here gets," Kenzie finished.

Aelin nodded with a furrowed brow. "It's plausible. There _have_ been cases of woodlanders and vermin getting along, even in canon."

Jarrtail sighed. "So, I suppose that's one undercover mission and two seasons wasted."

"Not completely," Kenzie said. "We _have_ learned that the 'blight' in the trees was first noticed about ten seasons ago. One of the scouts found a bit of purple sap in an otherwise healthy tree. Ever since then, it's just gotten worse, though nobeast thought it was cause for concern until about a season ago."

"That certainly fits Martin's description of the situation," Aelin said, rubbing at her chin. "But why would a Sue wait so long? You'd think she wouldn't be able to wait to take the entire world under her paw."

"This isn't a typical Sue, though," Jarrtail said. "She'd have eaten my grandma for breakfast."

"Heh, if only," Kalyn said. "Cannibal!Sues. Watch them eat each other and angst about it afterwards!"

"Don't give them ideas, Kalyn."

"Oh, okay. But Ara would enjoy the mental picture."

"I'm sure she would…"

* * *

**...What'd I tell you? *sobs***

**Back to work then...**


End file.
